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gathered up her few possessions and set sail, with her illustrious protectors, for the antipodes. Shortly after her departure Benvolio returned. He felt a terrible pang of rage and grief when he learned that she had gone; he went to the Countess, prepared to accuse her of the basest treachery. But she checked his reproaches by arts that she had never gone so far as to use before, and promised him that if he would trust her, he should never miss that pale-eyed little governess. It can hardly be supposed that he believed her, but he appears to have been guilty of letting himself be persuaded without belief. For some time after this he almost lived with the Countess. He had, with infinite pains, purchased from his neighbor, the miser, the right of occupancy of the late Professor's apartment. The repulsive old man, in spite of his aversion to rhymesters, had not resisted the financial argument, and seemed greatly amazed that a poet should have a dollar to spend. Scholastica had left all things in their old places, but Benvolio, for the present, never went into the room. He turned the key in the door, and kept it in his waistcoat pocket, where, while he was with the Countess, his fingers fumbled with it. Several months rolled by, and the Countess's promise was not verified. He missed Scholastica intensely, and missed her more as time elapsed. He began at last to go to the old room with the garden, and to try