of sunset over it, while his glowed like the sun rising in a mist.
Evidently the pleasures of giving and receiving were in this case nearly
equal. But they were not of long duration; for the moment I appeared, they
bade each other a hurried good night, and parted. I, thinking it better to
pretermit my speech to Harry, retreated into the library, and was glad to
think that no one had seen that conference but myself. Such a conjunction
of planets prefigured, however, not merely warm spring weather, but sultry
gloom, and thunderous clouds to follow; and although I was delighted with
my astronomical observation, I could not help growing anxious about the
omen.



CHAPTER VII.

THE CASTLE.


The next day, as I passed the school-house on my way to call on the
curate, I heard such an uproar that I stopped involuntarily to listen. I
soon satisfied myself that it was only the usual water-spout occasioned on
the ocean of boyhood by the vacuum of the master. As soon as I entered the
curate's study, there stood the missing master, hat in hand. He had not
sat down, and would not, hearing all the time, no doubt, in his soul, the
far confusion of his forsaken realm. He had but that moment entered.

"You come just in the right time, Smith," said the curate.--We had already
dropped unnecessary prefixes.--"Here is Mr. Bloomfield come to ask us to
spend a final evening with him and Mrs. Bloomfield. And in the name of the
whole company, I have taken upon me to assure him that it will give us