pectful, interest,--for the face had already
lost the joyous character of youth; there was a wrinkle between the
brows; and the lines that speak of fatigue were already visible under
the eyes and about the mouth; the complexion was sallow, the lips were
pale. Years of study had already sown in the delicate organization the
seeds of many an infirmity and many a pain; but if your look had rested
longer on that countenance, gradually your compassion might have given
place to some feeling uneasy and sinister,--a feeling akin to fear.
There was in the whole expression so much of cold calm force, that it
belied the debility of the frame. You saw there the evidence of a mind
that was cultivated, and you felt that in that cultivation there
was something formidable. A notable contrast to this countenance,
prematurely worn and eminently intelligent, was the round healthy face
of Oliver, with slow blue eyes fixed hard on the penetrating orbs of his
brother, as if trying with might and main to catch from them a gleam of
that knowledge with which they shone clear and frigid as a star.

At Frank's knock, Oliver's slow blue eyes sparkled into animation, and
he sprang from his brother's side. The little girl flung back the hair
from her face, and stared at her mother with a look which spoke wonder
and fright.

The young student knit his brows, and then turned wearily back to the
books on his desk.

"Dear me," cried Mrs. Leslie, "who can that possibly be? Oliver, come
from the window, sir, this instant: you will be seen! Juliet, run, ring
the bell; no, go to the head of the kitchen stairs, and call out to
Jenny 'Not at home.' Not at home, on any account," repeated Mrs. Leslie,
nervously, for the Montfydget blood was now in full flow.

In another minute or so, Frank's loud boyish voice was distinctly heard
at the outer door.

Randal slightly started.

"Frank Hazeldean's voice," said he; "I should like to see him, Mother."

"See him," repeated Mrs. Leslie, in amaze; "see him! and the room in
this state!"

Randal might have replied that the room was in no worse state than
usual; but he said nothing. A slight flush came and went over his pale
face; and then he leaned his check on his hand, and compressed his lips
firmly.

The outer door closed with a sullen, inhospitable jar, and a slip-shod
female servant entered with a card between her finger and thumb.

"Who is that for?--give it to me. Jenny," cried Mrs. Leslie.

But Jenny