eemed, however, not to notice the omission, but, taking
my hand, led me along homeward. I saw that some strong feeling was
working within, for twice or thrice he pressed my hand fervently, and
seemed as if about to say something; and then, subduing the impulse, he
walked on in silence.

"Make my respectful compliments to the Count, Jasper," said he, as we
came to the door, "and say that I will wait upon him when it is his
pleasure to see me."

"That would be now, I 'm sure," said I, eagerly.

"Perhaps not so soon; he will have so much to say to your mother.
Another time;" and, hurriedly shaking my hand, he retired.

As I slowly, step by step, mounted the stair, I could not help asking
myself, was this the festive occasion I had so often pictured to
myself?--was this the happy meeting I had looked forward to so
longingly? As I drew near the door, I thought I heard a sound like a.
heavy sob; my hand trembled when I turned the handle of the lock and
entered the room.

"This is Jasper," said my mother, coming towards me, and trying to smile
through what I could see were recent tears.

The Count was seated on an easy-chair, still dressed in the pelisse he
had worn on the journey, and with his travelling-cap in his hand. He
struck me as a handsome and distinguished-looking man, 'but with a
countenance that alike betrayed passion and intemperance. The look he
turned on me as I came forward was assuredly not one of kindness or
affection, nor did he extend his hand to me in sign of salutation.

"And this is Jasper!" repeated he slowly after my mother. "He is n't
tall of his age, I think."

"We have always thought him so," said my mother, gently, "and assuredly
he is strong and well grown."

"The better able will he be to brave fatigue and hardship," said he,
sternly. "Come forward, sir, and tell me something about yourself. What
have they taught you at school?--has Raper made you a bookworm, dreamy
and good-for-nothing as himself?"

"Would that he had made me resemble him in anything!" cried I,
passionately.

"It were a pity such a moderate ambition should go unrewarded," replied
he, with a sneer. "But to the purpose: what do you know?"

"Little, sir; very little."

"And what can you do?"

"Even less."

"Hopeful, at all events," rejoined he, with a shrug of the shoulders.
"They haven't made you a scholar: they surely might have trained you to
something."

My mother, who seemed to suffer most acutely during