And having succeeded in making his governess uncomfortable, he applied himself once more to his writing, feeling, no doubt, a certain satisfaction in seeing that she was beginning to look worried and anxious instead of happy. She knew him well in these impracticable moods, when he would exhibit an impish power of detecting the things which he was not meant to see, and delighted in sweeping away conventional disguises, and she feared that he suspected what had taken place, and meant to make her task of telling him about it as difficult as he could. He finished his essay in due time, fastened the pages neatly together, and presented the roll to her with a polite bow, then tidied and closed his desk, all in grim silence, while Cecil waited expectantly for what he would say next. For the moment he seemed to have forgotten the matter, however, for he called to the servants to spread a carpet for him beside the brazier, and to bring some cushions for mademoiselle, and also to replenish the glowing charcoal, for it was a cold day for Baghdad. When his orders had been carried out, he turned to Cecil, and invited her to come down from her desk, and to sit by the brazier a little and warm herself. Pupil and governess generally took a short rest of this kind in the middle of the morning, and Cecil was wont to regard it as a very pleasant time, when bits from the latest magazines and papers which had reached her might be read and discussed, and Azim Bey’s critical faculty guided in the right direction. “Captain Rossiter lent me a new magazine yesterday, which had just been sent him from home,” she said, willing to delay her important communication until her pupil was in a more accommodating mood, “and I think you would like to see it, Bey. I will send Um Yusuf for it, if you like.” “Thank you, mademoiselle, but I think I had rather talk to-day instead of reading,” replied Azim Bey; and as Cecil took her seat upon the cushions, he sat down upon his carpet on the other side of the brazier and looked at her. He had proposed to talk, but the conversation did not seem to be forthcoming; he only sat still, with his great black eyes fixed upon his governess. Cecil grew nervous, and perceived that she had not succeeded in diverting his mind from the former subject after all. It was foolish to feel perturbed merely on account of this, however, and she resolved to seize the opportunity and say what she had intended. “You asked me just now why I seemed so happy, Bey, and I will tell you. I am very happy, though I did not know I was showing it so plainly. You have read in books about people’s being engaged?” “Yes, mademoiselle,” responded her pupil. “Well, how would you like it if I told you that I was engaged?” “I should be deeply interested, mademoiselle,” he replied, with cold politeness. Cecil sighed. He was evidently determined not to be sympathetic. She must try and begin on another tack.