Mrs. Halford stood for a moment contemplating her son's bright and lively mood with real surprise. Truly he presented an exception to the rule which generally governed him. For once the sedate, studious youth had assumed a gay and lightsome manner, which completely changed his appearance. Suddenly she remembered hearing Dr. Halford speak of the young lady he and her son had met at Mr. Drummond's dinner-party--the only and elder sister of little Freddy Armstrong. Determining to question her husband respecting this young lady, she readily allowed Henry to go on to his study without another word. But once seated in this sanctum, so exclusively his own, Henry Halford's thoughts took a more serious turn. What he was about to do appeared more formidable on reflection than during the first few minutes of his walk home, when every difficulty seemed swept from his path. On his return from Oxford, although, if possible, more earnest in his wish to obtain Mary Armstrong as a wife when he had made for her a home, the wish seemed hopeless. He had met her father and mother but once; he was not a visitor at their house, and till his terms at Oxford were ended he had no profession, excepting that of usher in his father's school. Report said the woman he loved would be rich; how could he ask for her in his present penniless condition? So reasoned common sense. But then arose a thousand arguments in favour of asking for her now. If Mary Armstrong really loved him she would wait years for him. Might not he ask her father's permission to discover if such were the case? After all, it might be only for three years; and as soon as he was ordained had not his father's old pupil promised him a living for his son? And even if that failed, his father would make him a partner in the school, which he knew would be his at his death. Thus reflecting he made up his mind to the venture, and seated himself at his desk to commence a letter to Mr. Armstrong. But he found the task too full of difficulties to be hurried over. Two sheets of paper had been filled and thrown aside as unsuitable, and the summons to tea came before he had finished his third attempt. Carelessly pushing the spoiled sheets into his desk and locking it, he arose to join his friends at the tea-table, saying to himself, "I will write my letter to-morrow; it must not be done in a hurry." With this resolve he entered the little breakfast parlour, where we once heard a letter read which so faithfully portrayed his own characteristics. Kate Marston, who was pouring out the tea, looked at him earnestly. "Why, aunt Clara," she said, "Henry looks as grave as a judge. I expected to see him come into the room like a sunbeam from your description." "Well, Katey," said her cousin, "clouds must cover the sunbeams sometimes; and have you forgotten the poet's words?--'O man, thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.'"