“And have I not obeyed your directions?” said Arthur, smiling; “if you take the trouble to go to the porter’s lodge, you will see the case, and find that the box is untouched. Confound all this mystery—what does it mean? Why am I singled out for such necromancy; and why am I here in this singular place, when my wish is to be with my quiet, honest friends of Berrydale?” “And so you took me at my word, and never opened the little box?” “I had two very good reasons for not doing it—the first was that you requested me not to do it until I had consulted your dogs, if you remember; and the second reason was, that the picture which you said the box contained, would be broken if I attempted it—at least so you said in your note.” “Did you ever read the letter which old Crosbie told you to hand to Barnes?” “No—it was destroyed, I heard; but I shall insist on hearing the contents the moment I see Mr. Crosbie.” “You need not ask him; here is the letter—I persuaded the old ass, Barnes, to give it to me—there, read it.” “Upon my word,” said Arthur, laughing; “I do not wonder at my dismissal; I am only surprised that I was not complimented with the kick which you requested me to bestow upon Barnes.” “To Mr. Barnes,—Sir, The bearer of this letter is a pert jackanapes, and is full of conceit. He boasts that he will rule you, and all the gentlemen in the neighborhood, with a rod of iron. He is going to make you pull down the old school-house, and oblige you to dress the boys in uniform. In short, he promises himself that he will turn every thing upside down, and leave you and your four respectable colleagues out when it is time to elect new trustees. He is so daring, that you must be cautious how you act; and above all things, do not let him know the contents of this letter—just dismiss him coolly when he presents himself. Yours, P. Herman.” Arthur read this curious epistle aloud, and started when he saw the signature. “Surely,” said he, “Mr. Herman, the solemn, grave, upright owner of Herman Hall, never could have written this letter—if he did, he is crazy!” “He did write it, and he is not crazy; but why do we sit talking nonsense here when so much is to be done.” “I do not know what _your_ business may be, Mr. Darg, but mine is to get away from Herman Hall as quickly as possible; will you accompany me to Berrydale?” “Not I; why there is a great deal going on here; for instance, there are a number of pretty girls in the house, and there is to be a wedding. Ah, you start, yet I tell you the truth, there is to be a wedding here this very evening; instead of going to Berrydale you had better remain here and get a peep at the bride.” “If it is Miss Gordon—but that is impossible.”