igued by railroad travel, and required sleep. You know the
way to your room; it is the same you occupied before you went to college.
Good night; I hope you will rest well."

She held out her hand carelessly; he took it eagerly, and holding it up to
the light said, in a disappointed tone--

"Irene, where is my ring? Why are you not wearing it?"

"It is in my jewellery-box. As I gave you my reasons for not wearing it,
when you offered it to me, it is not necessary to repeat them now. Good
night, Hugh; go dream of something more agreeable than our old childish
quarrels." She withdrew her fingers and left him.

A week passed, varied by few incidents of interest; the new-comers became
thoroughly domesticated--the old routine was re-established. Hugh seemed
gay and careless--hunting, visiting, renewing boyish acquaintances, and
whiling away the time as inclination prompted. He had had a long
conversation with his uncle, and the result was that, for the present, no
allusion was made to the future. In Irene's presence the subject was
temporarily tabooed. She knew that the project was not relinquished, was
only veiled till a convenient season, and, giving to the momentary lull its
full value, she acquiesced, finding in Eric's society enjoyment and
resources altogether unexpected. Instinctively they seemed to comprehend
each other's character, and while both were taciturn and undemonstrative, a
warm affection sprang up between them.

On Sunday morning, as the family group sat around the breakfast-table
waiting for Hugh, who lingered, as usual, over his second cup of chocolate,
Mr. Mitchell suddenly laid down the fork with which he had been describing
a series of geometrical figures on the fine damask, and said, "I met a
young man in Brussels who interested me extremely, and in connexion with
whom I venture the prediction that, if he lives, he will occupy a
conspicuous position in the affairs of his country. He is, or was,
secretary of Mr. Campbell, our minister to ----, and they were both on a
visit to Brussels when I met them. His name is Aubrey, and he told me that
he lived here. His talents are of the first order; his ambition unbounded,
I should judge; and his patient, laborious application certainly surpasses
anything I have ever seen. It happened that a friend of mine, from London,
was prosecuting certain researches among the MS. archives at Brussels, and
here, immersed in study, he says he found the secretary, who compl