of
_him_ to-day; and now I shall have this delicious book all to myself,
and all myself to this delicious book.'

'That's very prettily turned now,' said a silvery voice; 'nothing could
have been prettier,--but you'--

'Oh, you naughty man, is that you already?' said Bella; 'didn't you meet
the Bear as you came in?'

'He is in the front basement, sucking his paws,' replied Roseton, for it
was indeed he, 'and he is trying to do a stupider thing, if possible.'

'What's that?' asked the fair Bella. 'Now don't tire me with any of your
nonsense.'

'To read himself,' answered Roseton.

'You alarm me,' exclaimed she; 'it can't be possible that the servants
have let him have a looking-glass, contrary to my express instructions!'

'No, no,' said the master of Pont-Noir, 'he is at work over the
_World_.'

'The _World?_' said Bella, inquiringly. 'Pray don't give me a headache.'

Roseton leaned over her shoulder, and placed in her lap a miniature
Andrews and Stoddard's Lexicon, open at the eight hundredth page. 'You
take?' he said: '_Mundus_, the World.'

'Ah, Percy,' sighed Bella, 'why do you thus unnecessarily fatigue me?
Have I not often told you that, faultless as you are in every other
department of life, and how I love to dwell upon this fact, still,
still, my Percy, your puns, or rather your attempts, are worse than
those of a Yale College freshman? You are cruel, indeed you are, thus to
disappoint and wound me. Be persuaded by me, and _never_ try again.'

Roseton paused, irresolute--it was a great struggle; but what will not
one do for the woman one loves? 'I promise,' said he, at last; and,
bending over her, laid a kiss--like an egg--upon her brow. 'This will
forever bind me.'

'Thank you, dear Percy,' said Bella; 'and I hope you'll keep your
promise better than you did the last one you made about giving up
smoking. You're sure you haven't tumbled my collar, and that you wiped
the egg off your moustache before you came in; get me the toilet-glass,
there's a good boy. You men are _so_ careless, and I shouldn't like it
to dry on my forehead.'

Let us approach, and gaze into the mirror. Can one describe that
face--the lovely brown eyebrows; the eyes, like a spring sky, just as
the light, fleecy clouds are leaving it after a shower; the perfect
roses, dipped in milk, of the skin; the lips where good-nature,
sprightliness, and love, lay mingled in ambush; the dewy teeth never
quite concealed? It is, indeed, use