The amusement was chiefly at our end of the table.  But amidst it, I did not fail to glance often at the door and wonder, uncomfortably, why the tutor did not come.

As we left the table and lingered for a few moments in the hall, Richard came up to me and said, as he prepared to light his cigar, “Will you not come out and walk up and down the path here with me while I smoke?”

I began to make some excuse, for I wanted to do nothing just then but watch the stairway to see if Mr. Langenau did not come down even then and go into the dining-room.

But I reflected how ungracious it would seem to refuse this, when he had just come home, and I followed him out into the path.

There was no moon, but the stars were very bright, and the air was sweet with the flower-beds in the grass along the path we walked.

The house looked gay and pleasant as we walked up and down before it, with its many lighted windows, and people with bright dresses moving about on the piazza.  Richard lit his cigar, and said, after a silence of a few moments, with a sigh, “It is good to be at home again.”

“But you’ve had a pleasant journey?”

“No; the most tiresome that I ever made, and this last detention wore my patience out.  It seemed the longest fortnight.  I could not bear to think of you all here, and I away in such a dismal hole.”

“I suppose Uncle Leonard had no pity on you, as long as there was a penny to be made by staying there.”

“No; I spent a great deal of money in telegraphing to him for orders to come home, but he would not give up.”

“And how is Uncle Leonard; did you go to Varick-street?”

“No, indeed; I did not waste any time in town.  I only reached there yesterday.”

“I wonder Uncle Leonard let you off so soon.”

“He growled a good deal, but I did not stay to listen.”

“That’s always the best way.”

“And now, Pauline, tell me how you like the place.”

“Like it!  Oh, Richard, I think it is a Paradise,” and I clasped my hands in a young sort of ecstacy.

He was silent, which was a sign that he was satisfied.  I went on after a moment, “I don’t wonder that you all love it.  I never saw anything half so beautiful.  The dear old house is prettier than any new one that could be built, and the trees are so grand!  And oh, Richard, I think the garden lying on the hillside there in the beautiful warm sun, with such royal flowers and fruit, is worth all the grape-houses and conservatories in the neighborhood.  Your sister took us to three or four of the neighboring places a week or two ago.  But I like this a hundred times the best.  I should think you would be sorry every moment that you have to spend away from it.”

“I hope one of these days to live here altogether,” he said in a low tone.

It was so difficult for Richard to be unreserved that it is very likely this was the first time in his life that he had ever expressed this, the brightest hope he had.