I
looked in at the lodge from time to time afterward, and continued my
instructions. The younger men among my uncle's guests set their own
stupid construction on my attentions "to the girl at the gate," as they
called her--rather too familiarly, according to my notions of propriety.
I contrived to remind them that I was old enough to be Susan's father,
in a manner which put an end to their jokes; and I was pleased to hear,
when I next went to the lodge, that Mrs. Rymer had been wise enough to
keep these facetious gentlemen at their proper distance.

The day of my departure arrived. Lord Leper took leave of me kindly, and
asked for news of Rothsay. "Let me know when your friend returns," my
uncle said; "he belongs to a good old stock. Put me in mind of him when
I next invite you to come to my house."

On my way to the train I stopped of course at the lodge to say good-by.
Mrs. Rymer came out alone I asked for Susan.

"My daughter is not very well to-day."

"Is she confined to her room?"

"She is in the parlor."

I might have been mistaken, but I thought Mrs. Rymer answered me in no
very friendly way. Resolved to judge for myself, I entered the lodge,
and found my poor little pupil sitting in a corner, crying. When I asked
her what was the matter, the excuse of a "bad headache" was the only
reply that I received. The natures of young girls are a hopeless
puzzle to me. Susan seemed, for some reason which it was impossible to
understand, to be afraid to look at me.

"Have you and your mother been quarreling?" I asked.

"Oh, no!"

She denied it with such evident sincerity that I could not for a moment
suspect her of deceiving me. Whatever the cause of her distress might
be, it was plain that she had her own reasons for keeping it a secret.

Her French books were on the table. I tried a little allusion to her
lessons.

"I hope you will go on regularly with your studies," I said.

"I will do my best, sir--without you to help me."

She said it so sadly that I proposed--purely from the wish to encourage
her--a continuation of our lessons through the post.

"Send your exercises to me once a week," I suggested; "and I will return
them corrected."

She thanked me in low tones, with a shyness of manner which I had
never noticed in her before. I had done my best to cheer her--and I was
conscious, as we shook hands at parting, that I had failed. A feeling
of disappointment overcomes me when I see young people out o