A single glance showed Mr. Roundjacket that this carriage contained a lady; a second look told him that the lady was Miss Lavinia.

We might very rationally suppose that the great poet, absorbed in the delights of poesy, and thus dead to the outer world, would have continued his recitation, and permitted such real, sublunary things as visitors to pass unheeded.  But such a conclusion would not indicate a very profound acquaintance with the character of Mr. Roundjacket—­the most chivalric and gallant of cavaliers.

Instead of going on with his poem, he hastily rolled up the manuscript, thrust it into his desk, and hastening to a small cracked mirror, which hung over the fire-place, there commenced arranging his somewhat disordered locks and apparel, with scrupulous care.

As he finished this hasty toilette, the Apple Orchard carriage drew up and stopped at the door, and Mr. Roundjacket rushed forth.

Then any body who would have taken the trouble to look, might have seen a gentleman opening the door of a chariot with profuse bows, and smiles, and graceful contortions; and then a lady accepting the proffered hand with solemn courtesy; and then Mr. Roundjacket might have been observed leading the lady elegantly into the office.

“A delightful morning—­a very delightful morning, madam,” said Mr. Roundjacket.

“Yes, sir,” said Miss Lavinia, solemnly.

“And you look in the best of health and spirits, madam.”

“Thank you, sir; I feel very well, and I am glad to think that you are equally blest.”

“Blest!” said Mr. Roundjacket; “since you came, madam, that may be very truly said.”

A ghost of a smile lit, so to speak, upon Miss Lavinia’s face, and then flew away.  It was very plain that this inveterate man-hater had not closed her ears entirely to the voice of her enemy.

Roundjacket saw the impression he had made, and followed it up by gazing with admiring delight upon his visitor;—­whose countenance, as soon as the solemnity was forgotten, did not by any means repel.

“It is a very great happiness,” said the cavalier, seating himself on his stool, and, from habit, brandishing his ruler around Miss Lavinia’s head,—­“it is a great happiness, madam, when we poor professional slaves have the pleasure to see one of the divine sex—­one of the ladies of creation, if I may use the phrase.  Lawbooks and papers are—­ahem!—­very—­yes, exceedingly—­”

“Dull?” suggested the lady, fanning herself with a measured movement of the hand.

“Oh! worse, worse!  These objects, madam, extinguish all poetry, and gallantry, and elevated feeling in our unhappy breasts.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, my dear madam, and after a while we become so dead to all that is beautiful and charming in existence”—­that was from Mr. Roundjacket’s poem—­“that we are incapable even of appreciating the delightful society of the fairest and most exquisite of the opposite sex.”