ernoon, and a dance in the evening.
"The public" were invited to attend in the morning and afternoon, and
the parents, friends, and guardians of the pupils were invited to remain
for the dinner and ball in the evening. All the young people were on the
qui vive for this festival; and their elders were not much less excited.

Everywhere they were preparing dresses as well as lessons.

Poor Hannah Worth, whose circumstances were much improved since she had
been seamstress in general to Mrs. Middleton's large family, had
strained every nerve to procure for Ishmael a genteel suit of clothes
for this occasion. And she had succeeded. And this summer morning saw
Ishmael arrayed, for the first time in his life, in a neat, well-fitting
dress suit of light gray cassimere, made by the Baymouth tailor. Hannah
was proud of her nephew, and Ishmael was pleased with himself. He was
indeed a handsome youth, as he stood smiling there for the inspection of
his aunt. Every vestige of ill health had left him, but left him with a
delicacy, refinement, and elegance in his person, manners, and speech
very rare in any youth, rarer still in youth of his humble grade. But
all this was of the soul.

"You will do, Ishmael--you will do very well indeed!" said Hannah, as
she drew the boy to her bosom and kissed him with blended feelings of
affection, admiration, and remorse. Yes, remorse; for Hannah remembered
how often, in his feeble infancy, she had wished him dead, and had been
impatient for his death.

"I hope you will do yourself credit to-day, Ishmael," she said, as she
released him from her embrace.

"I shall try to do you credit, Aunt Hannah," replied the smiling youth,
as he set off gayly for the fete at the school.

It was a splendid morning, but promised to be a sultry day.

When he reached Brudenell Hall he found the young ladies and gentlemen
of the school, about twenty in all, assembled on the front lawn before
the house. The young gentlemen in their holiday suits were sauntering
lazily about among the parterres and shrubberies. The young ladies in
their white muslin dresses and pink sashes were grouped under the shade
of that grove of flowering locusts that stood near the house--the same
grove that had sheltered some of them on the night of the fire.

As Ishmael came up the flagged walk leading to the house Claudia saw him
and called out:

"Come here, Ishmael, and let us look at you!"

The youth, blushing with the consciousne