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Bressant

Page 12

"By-the-way, where's the young man to stay? At Abbie's, of course,

if--Margaret says, at some good boarding-house. Well, Abbie's is the

only one in town. It's a singular coincidence, certainly, if it is a

coincidence! Perhaps I'd better go down at once and see Abbie, and have

the whole matter cleared up. I shall have time enough before supper, if

I harness Dolly now."

As Professor Valeyon arrived at this conclusion, he uplifted himself,

with some slight signs of the rustiness of age, from his chair, took his

brown-linen duster from the balcony railing across which it had been

thrown, and put it on, with laborious puffings, and a slight increase of

perspiration. Then, first turning round, to make sure that he had all

his belongings with him, he entered the hall-door, and passed through

into his study.

The rooms in which we live seem to imbibe something of our

characteristics, and the examination of a dwelling-place may not

infrequently throw some light upon the inner nature of its occupant. The

professor's study was of but moderate size, carpeted with a

red-and-white check straw matting, considerably frayed and defaced in

the region of the table, and faded where the light from the windows fell

upon it. The four walls were hidden, to a height of about seven feet

from the floor, with rows upon rows of books, of all sizes and varieties

of binding, no small proportion being novels, and even those not

invariably of a classical standard. The only picture was a stained

engraving of the Transfiguration, over the mantel-piece, in a faded and

fly-be-spotted gilt frame. In the centre of the room, occupying, indeed,

a pretty large share of all the available space, stood an ample

study-table, covered with green baize, darkened, for a considerable

space around the inkstand, by innumerable spatterings of ink. It

supported a confused medley of natural and unnatural accompaniments to

reading and writing. A ponderous ebony inkstand, with solid cut-glass

receptacles, one being intended for powder, though none was ever put in

it, a mighty dictionary, which, being too heavy to be considered

movable, occupied one corner of the table by itself: the earthen

tobacco-jar, with a small piece chipped from the cover; pamphlets and

books, standing or lying upon one another; heaps of rusty steel and

blunted quill pens; a quire or two of blue and white letter-paper; a

paper-knife, loose in the handle, but smooth of edge; a box of lucifer

matches, and several burnt ends; an extra pipe or two; the professor's

straw hat; a brass rack for holding letters and cards; and a great deal

of pink blotting-paper scattered about everywhere.

Opposite the table stood a chair, straight-backed and severe, in which

Professor Valeyon always sat when at work. He had a theory that it was

not well to be too much at bodily ease when intellectually occupied.

Directly behind the chair, upon the shelf of a bookcase, stood a plaster

cast of Shakespeare's face, the nose of which was most unaccountably

darkened and polished. It is doubtful whether even the professor himself

could have cleared up the mystery of this deepened color in the immortal

bard's nose. But whoever, during those hours set apart by the old

gentleman for solitary labor and meditation, had happened to peep in at

the window, would, ten to one, have beheld him tilted thoughtfully back

in his chair, abstractedly tweaking, with the forefinger and thumb of

his right hand, the sacred feature in question. He had done it every

day, for many years past, and never once found himself out, and,

doubtless, the great poet was far too broad-minded ever to think of

resenting the liberty, especially as it was only in his most thoughtful

moments that the professor meddled with him.

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