“But how has the youth contrived to procure the means of such education as he has?” inquired the judge, seating himself opposite his daughter.

“Papa, I will tell you all I know about him,” replied Claudia.  And she commenced and related the history of Ishmael’s struggles, trials, and triumphs, from the hour of her first meeting with him in front of Hamlin’s book shop to that of his self-immolation to save her from death.  Claudia spoke with deep feeling.  As she concluded her bosom was heaving, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes tearful with emotion.

“And now, papa,” she said, as she finished her narrative, “you will understand why it is that I cannot, must not, will not, neglect him!  As soon as he can bear visitors I must be admitted to his room, to do for him all that a young sister might do for her brother; no one could reasonably cavil at that.  Papa, Ishmael believes in me more than anyone else in the world does.  He thinks more highly of me than others do.  He knows that there is something better in me than this mere outside beauty that others praise so foolishly.  And I would not like to lose his good opinion, papa.  I could not bear to have him think me cold, selfish, or ungrateful.  So I must and I will help to nurse him.”

“Miss Merlin, you have grown up very much as my trees have, with every natural eccentricity of growth untrimmed; but I hope you will not let your branches trail upon the earth.”

“What do you mean, papa?”

“I hope you do not mean to play Catherine to this boy’s Huon in a new version of the drama of ’Love; or, The Countess and the Serf!”

“Papa! how can you say such things to your motherless daughter!  You know that I would die first!” exclaimed the imperious girl indignantly, as she bounced up and flung herself into a passion and out of the room.  She left the door wide open; but had scarcely disappeared before her place in the doorway was filled up by the tall, gaunt figure, gray head, and smiling face of Reuben.

“Well, Gray?”

“Well, sir, I have brought the farm books all made up to the first of this month, sir,” said the overseer, laying the volumes on the table before his master.

“And very neatly and accurately done, too,” remarked the judge, as he turned over the pages and examined the items.  “It is not your handwriting, Gray?”

“Dear, no, sir! not likely!”

“Nor little Kitty’s?”

“Why, law, sir! little Kitty has been in Californy a year or more!  How did you like the ’rangement of your liber-airy, sir?” inquired Gray, with apparent irrelevance, as he glanced around upon the book-lined walls.

“Very much, indeed, Gray!  I never had my books so well classified.  It was the work of young Ramsey, the schoolmaster, I suppose, and furnished him with employment during the midsummer holidays.  You must tell him that I am very much pleased with the work and that he must send in his account immediately.”