“I had no idea madam that I was to be the happy inmate of this paradise, but as it is your pleasure, I agree to the terms excepting, that once a week I must have the privilege of seeing one or two of my humble Berrydale friends. The porter’s lodge can be our place of rendezvous, and all that they shall ever hear from my lips is, that I am happy beyond my hopes. I think it is the desire to remain unknown to the people in the neighbourhood, which gives rise to your request that I hold no communication with them.” Mrs. Herman made no reply—she pointed to the table where books, paper, and pens lay, and began to knit with dignified solemnity. He took his seat opposite to the young lady, (whose name had not been mentioned by Mrs. Herman,) but drew his chair so that his face was partly hidden, for he wanted to catch glimpses of his pupil’s face, unseen by Mrs. Herman. He took up the books, examined them, and selecting one, began to read. “The language must appear harsh to you,” said he, “but as soon as you have acquired the pronunciation, you will like it exceedingly.—I was acquainted with a gentleman who had a great desire”— “No anecdotes, if you please, Mr. Hazerelle,” said Mrs. Herman,—“Please to recollect.” Arthur really was “struck all in a heap,” particularly as he again heard the laugh in the next room. The young lady pitied his confusion, but the laugh was irresistible, and she joined in it. What could Arthur do better than to laugh also? Instead of ordering him to leave the house as he expected, the old lady begged them to proceed, as “minutes made up hours.” He got through the first lesson without further remark, though the young lady could scarcely keep her countenance, and when the hour had expired, Mrs. Herman rang a little table bell, and the servant who came in was requested to show Mr. Hazarelle his chamber. As soon as Arthur had shut his room door, he threw himself on the sofa and laughed heartily, but what was his amazement when he heard the same clear ringing laugh as before. “Upon my word,” thought he, “this is a queer place. All solemn nonsense on one side—all puerile formality on the other—and harlequinism in the centre.—Truly, I am curiously hemmed in, and can scarcely hope to steer clear among such an odd set.—Who can that merry laugher be?—I certainly have heard that clear bell voice before!—Where can I have heard it?”— “But the more he thought,” as the children say, “the more he could not tell;” so he looked round his chamber, and there, to his surprise, was his trunk, his carpet-bag, and his dressing-case. Really this is taking things for granted, thought he; why these articles must have been sent for the moment I entered the house; they thought I should be a fool to refuse compliance with their terms, which, in fact, they might safely infer had I hesitated.