“O I cannot tell you half of it.  He made the wittiest and most brilliant speech I ever heard.  It was interspersed with laughable anecdotes and poetical quotations flowed in throngs from him.  The happiest hits and the most lively sallies.  O, I was totally overcome!  He kept them in continual roars of laughter, and I could scarcely contain myself.  But now I must attend to some business.  Emily, where is my desk?”

“In the dining room,” said she, ringing the bell.

Melville came to obey the summons.

“Henry,” said Mr. Inglis, somewhat awkwardly, “you may a-will it be convenient? a-to-my writing desk-hem?”

“Certainly, sir, a moment, sir—­,” and Melville disappeared.

In a short time he laid the desk before Mr. Inglis, and stood in a corner of the room waiting any further orders.

“Emily, I am in an awkward situation.  There are some French merchants in Melbourne to whom I have to write, and I have forgotten my French.  Could you write a letter in that language?”

“Not grammatically, I fear.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Melville, coming forward.  “If you are willing, sir, I will write it.”

“Do you know French?” said Mr. Inglis, in surprise.

“As well as English, sir.”

A chair was given him, and he wrote at his master’s diction.  After it was over, Mr. Inglis thanked him, and said: 

“I wish there was another here who could relieve me in a similar way.  I have to write a Spanish letter to a Spanish house in that rendez-vous of all nations, and I don’t know a single word of the language.”

“I know it perfectly, sir,” said Melville, very meekly.

“You!-Spanish!  Why, sir-why I mean-you are a prodigy!  Can you write another letter?”

“I should be delighted to do it.”

And Melville wrote another, after which he carried the two to the post-office.

“There now!  What can I make of a man like that?  He knows far more than I do, and acts as though he had been accustomed to the best society.  How on earth came he to be a footman?”

Emily’s heart beat-she knew why, but she said nothing.

Several weeks passed away, and it was a lovely evening.  The sun was fast descending behind the western hills, and a cool breeze from the ocean blew refreshingly upon the city.  Many carriages rolled along the roads which led into the country.  Men of all classes promenaded the streets after the toils of the day, and nearly all labor had ceased.

Emily and her father rode along one of the avenues which lie without the city.  It was a quiet place, for few people were there.  Around lay green fields, orchards and groves, pastures where cattle grazed, and vast fields filled with flocks of sheep.  Melville rode behind at a little distance, gazing upon Emily as though his whole soul were wrapt up in her.

“What will not a man do for love?  Here am I a servant for Emily’s sake.  Beautiful girl.  I would do a thousand times as much to gain some of those tender glances which she at times bestows upon me.”