g, a
companion whose being was rich in the womanly developments with which
nature had so economically endowed herself. An impoverished organization
carries with it certain neutral qualities which make its subject appear,
in the presence of complete manhood and womanhood, like a deaf-mute among
speaking persons. The deep blush which crimsoned Euthymia's cheek at
Lurida's suggestion was in a strange contrast to her own undisturbed
expression. There was a range of sensibilities of which Lurida knew far
less than she did of those many and difficult studies which had absorbed
her vital forces. She was startled to see what an effect her proposal
had produced, for Euthymia was not only blushing, but there was a flame
in her eyes which she had hardly ever seen before.

"Is this only your own suggestion?" Euthymia said, "or has some one been
putting the idea into your head?" The truth was that she had happened to
meet the Interviewer at the Library, one day, and she was offended by the
long, searching stare with which that individual had honored her. It
occurred to her that he, or some such visitor to the place, might have
spoken of her to Lurida, or to some other person who had repeated what
was said to Lurida, as a good subject for the art of the sculptor, and
she felt all her maiden sensibilities offended by the proposition.
Lurida could not understand her excitement, but she was startled by it.
Natures which are complementary of each other are liable to these
accidental collisions of feeling. They get along very well together,
none the worse for their differences, until all at once the tender spot
of one or the other is carelessly handled in utter unconsciousness on the
part of the aggressor, and the exclamation, the outcry, or the explosion
explains the situation altogether too emphatically. Such scenes did not
frequently occur between the two friends, and this little flurry was soon
over; but it served to warn Lurida that Miss Euthymia Tower was not of
that class of self-conscious beauties who would be ready to dispute the
empire of the Venus of Milo on her own ground, in defences as scanty and
insufficient as those of the marble divinity.

Euthymia had had admirers enough, at a distance, while at school, and in
the long vacations, near enough to find out that she was anything but
easy to make love to. She fairly frightened more than one rash youth who
was disposed to be too sentimental in her company. They overdid
flatte