interviews. In a second the young man's face
changed in its whole expression. He coloured
scarlet, and stole away as though caught in some
fact, to the tender gravity of which his heart
bore testimony."

"But, really, aunty," returned Polly, blushing a
little, " I think we may find a more agreeable subject
to discuss than Master Arthur Haggerdorn."

"Arthur Haggerdorn! So, that's his name!
"Why didn't you say so before?"

"Did I not, aunt? I— suppose I— forgot—
or— didn't remem—— Yes— O yes— Master
Arthur Haggerdorn." And thereupon the young
lady recounted to her companion the history as
detailed by Mrs Ascroft, not omitting the interest
with which he had inspired his kind landlady.

Miss Serocold was sensibly touched, and with
difficulty refrained from tears.

"The poor orphan!" she exclaimed. "And,
doubtless, now he is striving to do something for
his daily bread. I shall never forgive myself for
having, though involuntarily, embarrassed these
noble efforts. He must have wasted an immensity
of time at that window. We owe him some
reparation, dear. Could we not, now," added
Aunt Serocold, with maidenly hesitation, " send
him — a little ——"

"Money, dear aunt? He does not want it."

"Nor would I so far insult his noble nature
as to offer it," said Miss Serocold, warmly. " He
would wave it from him with disdain! No— send
him a little note, you know. Invite him to tea."

"My dear aunt! Tea? Are you in your
senses?"

"I flatter myself I am as collected as yourself,
child," returned Miss Serocold, in a high state of
perturbation; "nor is there anything so very
extraordinary in my proposal. At the Hague, people
used to come in to tea without being asked at all.
I am sure he draws beautifully. My dear mother
vras devoted to the art, and I feel I am but paying
fitting reverence to her memory in encouraging
its professors to the best of my power."

"But not necessarily by inviting them to tea,
dear."

"Humph! But it's no matter. Indeed, I
must beg your pardon for forgetting that I am
myself but a guest."

"You are my dearest, almost my only friend."
And Polly-my-Lamb kissed and soothed her in a
manner few could resist; but my aunt was hard
to pacify, and continued to bemoan the youth's
hard fortune, expressing at the same time such a
longing desire to inspect those wondrous specimens
of art on which he was so unceasingly
employed, that Polly-my-Lamb, wearied out,
yielded reluctant consent that a verbal message
should be despatched to Mrs. Ascroft, intimating
a wish to examine more closely any of those
productions of the young artist, whose progress
had been unavoidably witnessed over the way.
The young lady reconciling her conscience to this
forward step, by regarding the message as confined
to Mrs. Ascroft, and instructing the bearer
accordingly.

To her extreme confusion, an answer was
returned, with lightning speed, to the effect
that the young gentleman would himself fulfil
the grateful duty of leaving a few of his best
drawings.

My aunt precipitately glided from the room,
nor was Miss Serocold visible to mortal eyes,
save those of her maid Hester, until near the
hour of evening refection, when she rustled into
the apartment in a gown of silver-grey, which
had not seen the light since the grand entertainment
given at the Hague on the marriage of the
Stadtholder's nephew, and now, redolent of
lavender, came forth to do honour to the arts—
as represented by Master Haggerdorn.

"Of course we will ask him to tea, aunt," said
Polly, reassured by remembering Mrs. Ascroft's
allusions to his juvenility. " He shall have
tamarisks and Barbary prunes, and you shall tell
him a story."

So, in due course, that is, at six o'clock, the
expected guest appeared, proving to be a
remarkably fine infant of nineteen, who, with
galloping pulse and bewildered brain, presented
himself, portfolio in hand, and paid his compliments
to the two ladies.

Miss Serocold dexterously flung her handkerchief
over the Barbary prunes, and both ladies
welcomed their guest not the less graciously
because the traces of severe illness were still
visible on his fair open face. The lad's singular
beauty, even more striking on a closer inspection,
almost awed Aunt Serocold into silence:
while Polly-my-Lamb, who, on seeing the stature
of her guest, had resolved to be marble, found
herself transmuted, by force of the laws of hospitality,
into common clay.

Agitated as he certainly was, young Haggerdorn's
manner possessed all the seeming ease
and actual grace of perfect breeding. But the
perpetual change of colour, the eager, anxious
expression of the luminous eye, the tremor of
his voice, bore abundant witness to the tempest
of feeling that raged within. Polly-my-Lamb
felt, with considerable alarm, that she was
becoming slightly infected, and was conscious of a
hearty desire to run away, put her head into
some dark corner, and, being thus, like the
ostrich, secure from all peril, weep for a quarter
of an hour. But this being, for the present,
incompatible with her duties as hostess, the
young lady steeled herself as much as might be
against the silent fascinations of her visitor, by
trying to feel both wounded and offended by his
presence there at all— the plea of infancy, so
craftily urged by his landlady, being completely
overruled. Why, the impertinent young man
had absolutely a brown and curling moustache,
so silken-soft, it is true, as to have passed (across
the way) for one of those darker shadows which
tedious sickness casts on many a fair face. There
was no help, however. Beard, or no beard, the
boy— that is, the youth — that is, the man — could
not- be turned out till after tea.

Now it was that the drawings, which proved