“My _first_,” he remarked, with a significant and sarcastic smile. Then, relapsing into his old manner, he threw his boots at my head, and bade me begone. I withdrew calmly. CHAPTER V My pupil was a bright little girl, who spoke French with a perfect accent. Her mother had been a “French ballet-dancer, which probably accounted for it. Although she was only six years old, it was easy to perceive that she had been several times in love. She once said to me,— “Miss Mix, did you ever have the grande passion? Did you ever feel a fluttering here?” and she placed her hand upon her small chest, and sighed quaintly; “a kind of distaste for bonbons and caramels, when the world seemed as tasteless and hollow as a broken cordial drop?” “Then you have felt it, Nina?” I said quietly. “Oh, dear, yes. There was Buttons,—that was our page, you know,—I loved him dearly, but papa sent him away. Then there was Dick, the groom; but he laughed at me, and I suffered misery!” and she struck a tragic French attitude. “There is to be company here to-morrow,” she added, rattling on with childish naivete, “and papa’s sweetheart—Blanche Marabout—is to be here. You know they say she is to be my mamma.” What thrill was this shot through me? But I rose calmly, and administering a slight correction to the child, left the apartment. Blunderbore House, for the next week, was the scene of gayety and merriment. That portion of the mansion closed with a grating was walled up, and the midnight shrieks no longer troubled me. But I felt more keenly the degradation of my situation. I was obliged to help Lady Blanche at her toilet and help her to look beautiful. For what? To captivate him? Oh—no, no,—but why this sudden thrill and faintness? Did he really love her? I had seen him pinch and swear at her. But I reflected that he had thrown a candlestick at my head, and my foolish heart was reassured. It was a night of festivity, when a sudden message obliged Mr. Rawjester to leave his guests for a few hours. “Make yourselves merry, idiots,” he added, under his breath, as he passed me. The door closed and he was gone. A half-hour passed. In the midst of the dancing a shriek was heard, and out of the swaying crowd of fainting women and excited men a wild figure strode into the room. One glance showed it to be a highwayman, heavily armed, holding a pistol in each hand. “Let no one pass out of this room!” he said, in a voice of thunder. “The house is surrounded and you cannot escape. The first one who crosses yonder threshold will be shot like a dog. Gentlemen, I’ll trouble you to approach in single file, and hand me your purses and watches.” Finding resistance useless, the order was ungraciously obeyed. “Now, ladies, please to pass up your jewelry and trinkets.”