No sooner had the word “sister” passed his lips than he saw a sudden change in the expression of his companion’s countenance; he had, in fact, awakened a train of unpleasant reflections, rendered more disagreeable by a feeling of self-reproach for previous forgetfulness. Hildegarde retired from him as far as the limits of the carriage permitted, looking out of the window, without noticing his remark, and rendered all his attempts to renew the conversation abortive by entering into a disquisition with her brother on the impropriety of bringing snow-balls into the house in winter! With a smile, which Hildegarde would perhaps have denominated a sneer, had she seen it, Hamilton leaned back in the carriage, and was soon occupied in mental speculations on the change which one word had been able to produce, although the cause was by no means difficult to surmise. They did not speak again until they entered the inn where they were to dine. Madame Rosenberg was his companion in the afternoon, and so effectually did she contrive to beguile the time with a history of herself and her family, that he was actually sorry when, at a late hour in the evening, their journey ended, and both carriages began somewhat tumultuously to pour forth their contents. The apartments were on the third story, and on bounding up the stairs to them, Hamilton was received by Mr. Rosenberg with almost as much cordiality as his future son-in-law, who had followed more slowly. A good deal of calling and running, and dragging about of furniture ensued, but at the end of an hour, or thereabouts, they were all comfortably seated round a supper-table, which, although of the plainest description, and lit by a couple of tallow candles in brass candlesticks, more than satisfied Hamilton; and nothing could exceed the pleasure with which he looked around him. The novelty of the situation, and the realization of his wish to be domesticated in a private family, aided, no doubt, considerably to produce this frame of mind, for he was, by nature and education, fastidious; and had he not had an object in view, it is more than probable that the extreme homeliness of the house arrangements would have more disgusted than amused him. Madame Rosenberg stood with a napkin pinned over the front of her dress while she carved a large loin of veal, and distributed to each, beginning with her husband, the portion which she judged sufficient for their supper; a potato salad, which she had also prepared in their presence, with oil and vinegar, was added; and Hildegarde and Crescenz carried around the plates, to Hamilton’s surprise and, indeed, discomfort; it was in vain he jumped up and offered to assist them. Madame Rosenberg begged him to sit still, that Hildegarde would bring him all he wanted, and Crescenz, as in duty bound, would see that the Major had every thing he required. With a coyness which would have been graceful had it not been slightly