Walter received his visitor with obvious pleasure. He had, for some time, been fancying that Mr. Courtenaye neglected him; he was shy, sensitive, and had of late been suffering under those tortures
"The poor alone can know,
The proud alone can feel;"
and at such a time how we exaggerate any slight! and neglect, that, by the gay and prosperous, is not even noticed, appears a grievous wrong to poverty and depression.
Norbourne just glanced round the room; but that single glance took in a whole history of privation and discomfort. The windows were dark with dust; and rain, scarce dried on the seat of one, showed that it had been inadvertently left open. The lamp, on the table, had burnt into the socket: Walter had been writing all night, and the daylight had stolen on him so gradually, that he had neglected to extinguish the companion of his task. It was now noon, and a cup of half-drank coffee stood beside him; but it was cold, the remains of the evening before. There were no books,—he
