"I say, Bruce," observed Vibert, "if you have the settling about the rooms at Myst Court, mind that you give me a good one. I like plenty of air and light, and a cheerful view. No poky little cabin for me, nor an attic at the top of the house; long stairs are a terrible bore." "I shall certainly give my first attention to the accommodation of my father and sister," said Bruce; "they never think of themselves." "A hit at me, I suppose," cried Vibert with unruffled good-humour. "Ah! that reminds me of our conversation last evening. Captain, have you been hunting up the ghosts in our haunted rooms?" asked the youth as he rose from his place at the breakfast-table. Arrows replied by drawing forth a memorandum-book from the pocket of his surtout. He unclasped it, and took out from it three minute pieces of paper, neatly folded up and addressed. "I am going upstairs to look after my luggage," said the captain; "I leave with you--" "These three private and confidential communications!" cried Vibert, playfully snatching the papers out of his uncle's hand. "Each one, I see, is directed: here's yours, Emmie; yours, Bruce; and here is mine!" Captain Arrows did not wait to watch the effect produced by his little missives, but quitted the room to complete preparations for his departure. "I'm of a frank nature," said Vibert; "I don't care if all the world hear my good uncle's opinion of me!" and, unfolding the scrap of paper which he held, the youth read aloud as follows: "_Be on your guard against the_ PRIDE _that repels advice, resents reproof, and refuses to own a fault._ I don't recognize my likeness in this photo!" cried the youth; "if the portrait had been intended for Bruce,"--Vibert turned the paper and looked at the back--"sure enough, it _is_ directed to Bruce; and the captain has hit him off to the life!" "You made the apparent blunder on purpose," said Bruce with ill-suppressed anger, as he took the paper from Vibert, and then threw it into the fire. Then, after tossing down on the table the unopened note which had been handed to him first, Bruce Trevor turned on his heel, and quitted the apartment. "Stung and nettled! stung and nettled! does he not wince!" cried Vibert, looking after his brother. "The captain has, sure enough, laid his finger on the sensitive spot!" "I am so much vexed at your having read that private paper aloud," said Emmie; "it was never intended that we should know its contents." "It told us nothing new," observed Vibert. "Bruce's pride is as plain as the nose on his face; only, like the nose, it is too close to him--too much a part of himself, for him to see it." "Bruce is a noble, unselfish, generous fellow!" cried Emmie.