rfect room for work, and went so far as to say to myself that, if it
were mine to sit and scribble in, there was no knowing but that I might
learn to write as well as the author of _Beltraffio_. This distinguished
man did not turn up, and I rummaged freely among his treasures. At last
I took down a book that detained me awhile, and seated myself in a fine
old leather chair by the window to turn it over. I had been occupied
in this way for half-an-hour,--a good part of the afternoon had
waned,--when I became conscious of another presence in the room, and,
looking up from my quarto, saw that Mrs. Ambient, having pushed open the
door in the same noiseless way that marked, or disguised, her entrance
the night before, had advanced across the threshold. On seeing me she
stopped; she had not, I think, expected to find me. But her hesitation
was only of a moment; she came straight to her husband's writing-table
as if she were looking for something. I got up and asked her if I could
help her. She glanced about an instant, and then put her hand upon a
roll of papers which I recognized, as I had placed it in that spot in
the morning on coming down from my room.

"Is this the new book?" she asked, holding it up. "The very sheets, with
precious annotations." "I mean to take your advice;" and she tucked the
little bundle under her arm. I congratulated her cordially, and
ventured to make of my triumph, as I presumed to call it, a subject of
pleasantry. But she was perfectly grave, and turned away from me, as she
had presented herself, without a smile; after which I settled down to my
quarto again, with the reflection that Mrs. Ambient was a queer woman.
My triumph, too, suddenly seemed to me rather vain. A woman who could
n't smile in the right place would never understand Mark Ambient. He
came in at last in person, having brought the doctor back with him. "He
was away from home," Mark said, "and I went after him, to where he was
supposed to be. He had left the place, and I followed him to two or
three others, which accounts for my delay." He was now with Mrs. Ambient
looking at the child, and was to see Mark again before leaving the
house. My host noticed, at the end of ten minutes, that the proof-sheets
of his new book had been removed from the table; and when I told him,
in reply to his question as to what I knew about them, that Mrs. Ambient
had carried them off to read, he turned almost pale for an instant with
surprise. "What has