assembly; sometimes a little cough, taken up like a fugue over the different benches, gave a slight relief to their feelings; sometimes it would be a mere rustle of dresses, indicative of a slight universal movement. The curate’s wife, unable to keep up her attention, fell to adding up her bills within herself, a much more necessary mathematical exercise in her case, but one also which did very little towards paying the same, as poor Mrs. Mildmay knew too well. Miss Franks, the old doctor’s eldest daughter, after the first solemnity of the commencement wore off, began to think of her packing, and what nonsense it was of papa to send her here when there was so much to do--especially as they were leaving Harbour Green, and Lady Mary’s favour did not matter now. There was one real student, besides Lady Mary, and that was Ellen Gregory, the daughter of the postmistress, who sat far back, and was quite unthought of by the great people, and whose object was to learn a little Euclid for an approaching examination of pupil-teachers, and not in the least the art of thinking. Ellen was quite satisfied as to her powers in that particular; but she knew the effect that a little Euclid had upon a school-inspector, and worked away with a will, with a mind as much intent as Lady Mary’s, and eyes almost as round as Phil’s. From this it will be seen that Lady Mary’s audience was about as little prepared for abstract education as most other audiences. When it was over, there was a pleasant stir of relief, and everybody began to breathe freely. The lecturer came from behind his table, and the ladies rose from their benches, and everybody shook hands. “Oh, it was delightful, Lady Mary!” said the eldest Miss Witherington; “how it does open up one’s mental firmament.” “Mr. Thornleigh, will you help me to do the fourth problem?” said Myra. “I don’t understand it a bit--but of course you know all about it.” “I!” cried Harry, recoiling in horror, “you don’t mean it, Miss Witherington? It’s a shame to drag a fellow into this sort of thing without any warning. I couldn’t do a sum to save my life!” “Lady Mary, do you hear? is it any shame to me not to understand it, when a University man says just the same?” cried Myra, laughing. Poor Harry felt himself most cruelly assailed, as well as ill-used altogether, by being led into this extraordinary morning’s work. “I hope there’s more use in a University than that rot,” he said. “By Jove, Aunt Mary! I’ve often heard women had nothing to do--but if you can find no better way of passing your time than doing sums and problems, and getting up Euclid at your time of life----” “Take him away, for heaven’s sake, Myra!” whispered Lady Mary; “he is not a fool when you talk to him. He is just like other young men, good enough in his way; but I can’t be troubled with him now.”