And when I returned，sometimes a good deal tired，and not a little weather-beaten，I never dared plain，because I saw that to murmur would be to vex him: on all occasions fortitude pleased him; the reverse was a special annoyance.

One afternoon，however，I got leave to stay at home，because I really had a cold. His sisters were gone to Morton in my stead: I sat reading Schiller; he，deciphering his crabbed Oriental scrolls. As I exchanged a translation for an exercise，I happened to look his way: there I found myself under the influence of the ever-watchful blue eye. How long it had been searching me through and through，and over and over，I cannot tell: so keen was it，and yet so cold，I felt for the moment superstitious- as if I were sitting in the room with something uncanny.

"Jane，what are you doing?"

"Learning German."

"I want you to give up German and learn Hindostanee."

"You are not in earnest?"

"In such earnest that I must have it so: and I will tell you why."

He then went on to explain that Hindostanee was the language he was himself at present studying; that，as he advanced，he was apt to forget the mencement; that it would assist him greatly to have a pupil with whom he might again and again go over the elements，and so fix them thoroughly in his mind; that his choice had hovered for some time between me and his sisters; but that he had fixed on me because he saw I could sit at a task the longest of the three. Would I do him this favour? I should not，perhaps，have to make the sacrifice long，as it wanted now barely three months to his departure.

St. John was not a man to be lightly refused: you felt that every impression made on him，either for pain or pleasure，was deep-graved and permanent. I consented. When Diana and Mary returned，the former found her scholar transferred from her to her brother: she laughed，and both she and Mary agreed that St. John should never have persuaded them to such a step. He answered quietly-