I believe that this was not of my imagination, but that others felt it in some degree as I did.  It was this that made him such an invaluable teacher; he impressed upon those flesh-and-blood boys, in that one summer, more than they would have learned in whole years from ordinary persons.  It was not very strange, then, that I was smitten with the strangest interest in all he said and did, and that his words made the deepest impression on me.

No doubt it is pleasant to be listened to by one whose face tells you you are understood; and the tutor was not in a hurry to go away.  He had got up from the window, I know, with the intention of going out of the room, but he continued standing, looking down at me and talking, for half an hour at least.

The soft morning wind came in at the open door and window, with a scent of rose and honeysuckle:  the pretty little room was full of the early sunshine in which there is no glare:  I can see it all now, and I can hear, as ever, his low voice.

He talked of the book I held in my hand, of the views on the river, of the pleasantness of country life.  I fancy I did not say much, though I never am able to remember what I said when talking to him.  Whatever I said was a mere involuntary accord with him.  I never recollect to have felt that I did not agree with and admire every word he uttered.

How different his manner from last night when he had talked with Mary Leighton; all the stiffness, the half-concealed repelling tone was gone.  I had not heard him speak to any one, except perhaps once to Benny, as he spoke now.  I was quite sure that he liked me, and that he did not class me with the others in the house.  But when the breakfast-bell rang, he gave a slight start, and his voice changed; and such a frown came over his face!  He looked at his watch, said something about the hour, and quickly left the room.  I bent my head over my book and sat still, till I heard them all come down and go into the breakfast-room.  I trusted they would not know he had been talking to me, and there was little danger, unless they guessed it from my cheeks being so aflame.

At breakfast he was more silent than ever, and his brow had not quite got over that sudden frown.  At dinner he was away again, as the day before.

The day passed much as yesterday had done.  About four o’clock there came a telegram from Kilian to his sister.  He had been delayed, and Mr. Whitney would wait for him, and they would come the next evening by the boat.  I think Mary Leighton could have cried if she had not been ashamed.  Her pretty blue organdie was on the bed ready to put on.  It went back into the wardrobe very quickly, and she came down to tea in a gray barege that was a little shabby.

A rain had come on about six o’clock.  At tea the candles were lit, and the windows closed.  Every one looked moped and dull; the evening promised to be insufferable.  Mrs. Hollenbeck saw the necessity of rousing herself and providing us some amusement.  When Mr. Langenau entered, she met his bow with one of her best smiles:  how the change must have struck him; for she had been very mechanical and polite to him before.  Now she spoke to him with the charming manner that brought every one to her feet.