Ishmael looked around upon his new domicile.

It was a very plain room with simple maple furniture, neatly arranged; a brown woolen carpet on the floor; white dimity curtains at the window; and a small coal fire in the grate.  Yet it was much better than Ishmael had been accustomed to at home, and besides, the elevated position of the room, and the outlook from the only window, compensated for all deficiencies.

Ishmael walked up to this window, put aside the dainty white curtain, and looked forth:  the whole city of Washington, Georgetown, the winding of the Potomac and Anacostia rivers, Anacostia Island, and the undulating hills of the Virginia and Maryland shores lay spread like a vast panorama before him.

As the thicket was a necessity to Judge Merlin’s nature, so the widely extended prospect was a need of Ishmael’s spirit; his eyes must travel when his feet could not.

Feeling perfectly satisfied with his quarters, Ishmael at last left the window and made his toilet, preparatory to meeting the judge and—­Claudia!

“Oh, beating heart, be still! be still!” he said to himself, as the anticipation of that latter meeting, with all its disturbing influences, sent the blood rioting through his veins.

Without being the very least dandyish, Ishmael was still fastidiously nice in his personal appointments; purity and refinement pervaded his presence.

He had completed his toilet, and was engaged in lightly brushing some lint from his black coat, when a knock at his door attracted his attention.

It was Jim, who had come to announce breakfast and show him the way to the morning room.

Down the three flights of stairs they went again, and across the central hall to a front room on the left that looked out upon the winter garden of evergreen trees.  Crimson curtained and crimson carpeted, with a bright coal fire in the polished steel grate, and a glittering silver service on the white draped breakfast table, this room had a very inviting aspect on this frosty December morning.

The judge stood with his back to the fire, and a damp newspaper open in his hand.  Claudia was nowhere visible—­a hasty glance around the room assured Ishmael that she had not yet entered it.  Ishmael’s movements were so noiseless that his presence was not observed until he actually went up to the judge, and, bowing, accosted him with the words: 

“I am here according to appointment, Judge Merlin; and hope I find you well.”

“Ah, yes; good-morning! how do you do, Ishmael?” said the judge laying aside his paper and cordially shaking hands with the youth.  “Punctual, I see.  Had a pleasant journey?”

“Thank you, sir; very pleasant,” returned Ishmael.

“Feel like setting to work this morning?  There is quite an accumulation of correspondence groaning to be attended to.”

“I am ready to enter upon my duties whenever you please, sir.”