When Mary said to him she would miss her pupil, he smiled in a sort of abstracted way, as if not quite apprehending what she said, which seemed to Mary a little odd, his manners in essentials being those of a gentleman, as judged by one a little more than a lady; for there is an unnamed degree higher than the ordinary _lady_.

So Mary was left alone--more alone than she had ever been in her life.

But she did not feel lonely, for the best of reasons--that she never fancied herself alone, but knew that she was not.

Also she had books at her command, being one of the few who can read; and there were picture-galleries to go to, and music-lessons to be had.

Of these last she crowded in as many as her master could be persuaded to give her--for it would be long, she knew, before she was able to have such again.
Joseph Jasper never came near her.