Major Pierpoint lingered an instant in his door to follow with his eye the receding form of the maiden, as with a light, graceful trip she followed the dignified Cato to the street door. He then re-entered his library, and after pacing his room two or three times as if his thoughts were in a tumult, he suddenly stopped before his mirror and looked at himself. After a brief and satisfied survey of his fine face and person he walked to the fire, folded his hands behind his back, and stood and looked into the grate with a very thoughtful brow. “Well, Leslie Pierpoint, after remaining bachelor twenty years, thou art made captive by a linen-draper’s ’prentice! ’Tis true, and pity ’tis, ’tis true! Leslie Pierpoint, thou art false to thyself! But what a soft, sweet hand! How could I help taking it if she would thrust it into mine? But, poor child, I suppose I had frightened her by calling her an old woman, and she scarcely knew what she was about! Old woman? A youthful divinity! What heavenly blue eyes! What a sweet round bust! What an exquisite waist, the charms of which even her coarse dress could not conceal! And her foot, so petite and delicately turned! How rich were the tones of her voice! How enchanting her smile! Ah, Leslie Pierpoint, thou art in love with a ’prentice maiden! At forty years thou art become a fool! Yes, I am a fool! What have I to do with the sex? Have I not a lasting feud with it? Ah, let me not forget Clara Clayton! Remember her, and so forget this pretty maiden, for she belongs to the same false hearted sex!” Thus soliloquized Major Pierpoint, and, turning from the fire, he walked his room some time with a thoughtful brow. All at once he stopped and pulled his bell with an emphasis. Cato made his instant appearance. “Sar, massa.” “Bring me my boots.” “What massa say?” “Bring me my boots,” repeated Leslie, more decidedly. The black left the room with an inquiring look, as much as to ask what could take his master out in such an evening. “Yes, I will do it. I will learn all about her! Such beautiful teeth! Such a bright, intelligent, sensible face! Such innate high breeding!” Cato brought the boots, and in a few minutes afterwards the Major had exchanged his evening home costume for boots, overcoat and hat. “My stick, Cato.” “Yes, sar,” answered the black with dilating eyes, as he handed the gold headed Indian cane. “I shall return in an hour, Cato,” he said, as his wondering servant showed him out of the street door. “Yes, sar,” and Cato closed the door on his master. “Now, if massa Peerpount hant a loss his sebenteen senses, den heabenly marcy nebber gave Cato any. De firs’ time I ebber know him go out after him once take his boot off! Someting ’ticklar be goin’ to happ’n for sartain! No disordinary circumcasion take massa Peerpoun’ out dis col’ ebening. I mus’ feel werry pertickler distress if as how any ting surreptitious occur.”