But who was this genlmn with a fine name--Mr. Frederic Altamont? or
what was he? The most mysterus genlmn that ever I knew. Once I
said to him on a wery rainy day, "Sir, shall I bring the gig down
to your office?" and he gave me one of his black looks and one of
his loudest hoaths, and told me to mind my own bizziness, and
attend to my orders. Another day,--it was on the day when Miss
Mary slapped Miss Betsy's face,--Miss M., who adoared him, as I
have said already, kep on asking him what was his buth, parentidg,
and ediccation. "Dear Frederic," says she, "why this mistry about
yourself and your hactions? why hide from your little Mary"--they
were as tender as this, I can tell you--"your buth and your
professin?"

I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was ONLY listening, and he
said, in a voice hagitated by emotion, "Mary," said he, "if you
love me, ask me this no more: let it be sfishnt for you to know
that I am a honest man, and that a secret, what it would be misery
for you to larn, must hang over all my actions--that is from ten
o'clock till six."

They went on chaffin and talking in this melumcolly and mysterus
way, and I didn't lose a word of what they said; for them houses
in Pentonwille have only walls made of pasteboard, and you hear
rayther better outside the room than in. But, though he kep up his
secret, he swore to her his affektion this day pint blank. Nothing
should prevent him, he said, from leading her to the halter, from
makin her his adoarable wife. After this was a slight silence.
"Dearest Frederic," mummered out miss, speakin as if she was
chokin, "I am yours--yours for ever." And then silence agen, and