pedagogue, I hope you have enjoyed yourself since
I saw you last? Mr. Corbet, how do you do? And Cassandra, my darling
death-like old prophetess, what have you to predict for Ambrose Gray,"
for such was the name by which he went.

"Sit down, Mr. Gray," said Corbet, "and join us in one glass of punch."

"I will, in half-a-dozen," replied the student; "for I am always glad to
see my friends."

"But not to come to see them," said Mrs. Cooper--"However, it doesn't
matter; we are glad to see you, Mr. Ambrose. I hope you are getting on
well at college?"

"Third place, eh, my old grinder: are you not proud of me," said
Ambrose, addressing the schoolmaster.

"I think, Mr. Gray, the pride ought to be on the other side," replied
O'Donegan, with an affectation of dignity--"but it was well, and I
trust you are not insensible of the early indoctrination you received
at--whose hands I will not say; but I think it might be guessed
notwithstanding."

During this conversation, the eyes of the prophetess were fixed upon the
student, with an expression of the deepest and most intense interest.
His personal appearance was indeed peculiar and remarkable. He was
about the middle size, somewhat straggling and bony in his figure; his
forehead was neither good nor bad, but the general contour of his face
contained not within it a single feature with the expression of which
the heart of the spectator could harmonize. He was beetle-browed, his
mouth diabolically sensual, and his eyes, which were scarcely an inch
asunder, were sharp and piercing, and reminded one that the deep-seated
cunning which lurked in them was a thing to be guarded against and
avoided. His hands and feet were large and coarse, his whole figure
disagreeable and ungainly, and his voice harsh and deep.

The fortune-teller, as we have said, kept her eyes fixed upon his
features, with a look which seemed to betray no individual feeling
beyond that of some extraordinary and profound interest. She appeared
like one who was studying his character, and attempting to read his
natural disposition in his countenance, manner, and conversation.
Sometimes her eye brightened a little, and again her death-like face
became overshadowed with gloom, reminding one of that strange darkness
which, when the earth is covered with snow, falls with such dismal
effect before an approaching storm.

"I grant you, my worthy old grinder, that you did indoctrinate me, as
you say, to some purpose;