a quiver, as if from a
sudden pain, passed across her forehead; there was a momentary
unsteadiness in her eyes, and then they fastened, almost rigidly, upon
the young man's face. So habitual was the woman's self-control, however,
that these symptoms, whatever they betokened, were repressed and
annulled, till none, save a particularly sharp-sighted person, would
have noticed them. Bressant was thinking only of Professor Valeyon, and
would scarcely have troubled himself, in any case, about the neuralgic
spasms of his landlady.

"The professor and Miss Valeyon will both come," said Abbie, as soon as
the neuralgia, if that it were, would allow her to speak. "Excuse me,
sir--may I sit down a moment?" These words were uttered hurriedly, and,
at the same moment, the woman made a sudden step to the lounge, and
dropped down upon it so abruptly that the venerable springs creaked
again.

"Beg your pardon, ma'am," said Bressant, rather awkwardly. "Must be an
infirm old person," he added to himself. "She looks older, even, than
when she came in!"

"Well, sir," said she, with rather a constrained air, rising, from the
sofa in a way that confirmed the young man's opinion about her
infirmity; "well, sir, shall I expect you on Thursday evening?"

"Yes; I'll come," said he, with an elastic inclination of his shoulders,
and a smile. He thought himself fortunate in so good an opportunity to
put his invulnerability to the proof.

Abbie bowed without speaking, and moved toward the door. Having opened
it, she turned round, with her hands upon the latch: "Professor Valeyon
tells me you're an orphan, sir?"

"My father died last month; I never knew my mother," returned Bressant,
pushing his brown beard between his teeth, and biting it impatiently. He
wished people would get through asking him about his deceased relatives.

"Never knew your mother! it must have been--have you never felt the need
of her?"

"Oh, no! I was better without one," said he, quite provoked at his
landlady's pertinacity. He turned about, and threw himself into his
chair. The woman shrank back beyond the threshold.

"Good-day, sir, and thank you," she said. But Bressant could not be
expected to hear the low, timid tone in which she spoke. Seeing that he
made no response, she softly closed the door.

She went along the dark entry to her own room. On a little table in one
corner stood an old-fashioned desk. She opened it, and, unlocking an
inner drawer, took the