 the one I took with him
to the Lakes. His understanding and tastes are so superior, it does a man good
to be within their influence; and as to his temper and nature, I call them
fine.«
    »At Fieldhead he looks gloomy, and, I believe, has the character of being
misanthropical.«
    »Oh! I fancy he is rather out of place there - in a false position. The
Sympsons are most estimable people, but not the folks to comprehend him: they
think a great deal about form and ceremony, which are quite out of Louis's way.«
    »I don't think Miss Keeldar likes him.«
    »She doesn't know him - she doesn't know him; otherwise, she has sense
enough to do justice to his merits.«
    »Well, I suppose she does n't know him,« mused Caroline to herself, and by
this hypothesis she endeavoured to account for what seemed else unaccountable.
But such simple solution of the difficulty was not left her long: she was
obliged to refuse Miss Keeldar even this negative excuse for her prejudice.
    One day she chanced to be in the school-room with Henry Sympson, whose
amiable and affectionate disposition had quickly recommended him to her regard.
The boy was busied about some mechanical contrivance: his lameness made him fond
of sedentary occupation: he began to ransack his tutor's desk for a piece of
wax, or twine, necessary to his work. Moore happened to be absent. Mr. Hall,
indeed, had called for him to take a long walk. Henry could not immediately find
the object of his search: he rummaged compartment after compartment; and, at
last opening an inner drawer, he came upon - not a ball of cord, or a lump of
bees'wax - but a little bundle of small marble-coloured cahiers, tied with tape.
Henry looked at them: -
    »What rubbish Mr. Moore stores up in his desk!« he said: »I hope he won't
keep my old exercises so carefully.«
    »What is it?«
    »Old copy-books.«
    He threw the bundle to Caroline. The packet looked so neat externally, her
curiosity was excited to see its contents.
    »If they are only copy-books, I suppose I may open them?«
    »Oh! yes; quite freely. Mr. Moore's desk is half mine - for he lets me keep
all sorts of things in it - and I give you leave.«
    On scrutiny they proved
