Mary heard this announcement with evident impatience; her head was, indeed, too full of other cares to wish to occupy her attention with a ceremonial visit. She was in no mood to accept the unmeaning compliments of a new acquaintance. Shall we dare to insinuate, what after all is a mere suspicion on our part, that a casual glance at her pale cheeks, sunken eyes, and careworn features had some share in the obstinacy of her refusal? She was not, indeed, “in looks,” and she knew it. “Must I repeat it, Mr. Crow,” said she, peevishly, “that you can do all this for me, and save me a world of trouble and inconvenience besides? If there should be--a very unlikely circumstance--anything confidential to communicate, this gentleman may write it.” And with this she left the room, leaving poor Mr. Crow in a state of considerable embarrassment. Resolving to make the best of his difficulty, he returned to the drawing-room, and apologizing to Merl for Miss Martin's absence on matters of great necessity, he conveyed her request that he would stop for luncheon. “She ain't afraid of me, I hope?” said Merl. “I trust not. I rather suspect she is little subject to fear upon any score,” replied Crow. “Well, I must say it's not exactly what I expected. The letter I hold here from the Captain gives me to understand that his cousin will not only receive me, but confer with and counsel me, too, in a somewhat important affair.” “Oh, I forgot,” broke in Crow; “you are to write to her, she said,--that is, if there really were anything of consequence, which you deemed confidential, you know,--you were to write to her.” “I never put my hand to paper, Mr. Crow, without well knowing why. When Herman Merl signs anything, he takes time to consider what's in it,” said the Jew, knowingly. “Well, shall I show you the house,--there are some clever specimens of the Dutch masters here?” asked Crow, anxious to change the topic. “Ay, with all my heart. I suppose I must accept this privilege as my experience of the much-boasted Irish hospitality,” said he with a sneer, which required all Crow's self-control to resist answering. To master the temptation, and give himself a few moments' repose, he went about opening windows and drawing back curtains, so as to admit a fuller and stronger light upon the pictures along the walls. “There now,” said he, pointing to a large landscape, “there's a Both, and a fine one too; as mellow in color and as soft in distance as ever he painted.” “That's a copy,” said the other. “That picture was painted by Woeffel, and I 'll show you his initials, too, A. W., before we leave it.” “It came from the Dordrecht gallery, and is an undoubted Both!” exclaimed Crow, angrily.