d dearth of subjects,' observed the fair artist.
'I took the old hall once on a moonlight night, and I suppose I must take
it again on a snowy winter's day, and then again on a dark cloudy
evening; for I really have nothing else to paint. I have been told that
you have a fine view of the sea somewhere in the neighbourhood. Is it
true?--and is it within walking distance?'

'Yes, if you don't object to walking four miles--or nearly so--little
short of eight miles, there and back--and over a somewhat rough,
fatiguing road.'

'In what direction does it lie?'

I described the situation as well as I could, and was entering upon an
explanation of the various roads, lanes, and fields to be traversed in
order to reach it, the goings straight on, and turnings to the right and
the left, when she checked me with,--

'Oh, stop! don't tell me now: I shall forget every word of your
directions before I require them. I shall not think about going till
next spring; and then, perhaps, I may trouble you. At present we have
the winter before us, and--'

She suddenly paused, with a suppressed exclamation, started up from her
seat, and saying, 'Excuse me one moment,' hurried from the room, and shut
the door behind her.

Curious to see what had startled her so, I looked towards the window--for
her eyes had been carelessly fixed upon it the moment before--and just
beheld the skirts of a man's coat vanishing behind a large holly-bush
that stood between the window and the porch.

'It's mamma's friend,' said Arthur.

Rose and I looked at each other.

'I don't know what to make of her at all,' whispered Rose.

The child looked at her in grave surprise. She straightway began to talk
to him on indifferent matters, while I amused myself with looking at the
pictures. There was one in an obscure corner that I had not before
observed. It was a little child, seated on the grass with its lap full
of flowers. The tiny features and large blue eyes, smiling through a
shock of light brown curls, shaken over the forehead as it bent above its
treasure, bore sufficient resemblance to those of the young gentleman
before me to proclaim it a portrait of Arthur Graham in his early
infancy.

In taking this up to bring it to the light, I discovered another behind
it, with its face to the wall. I ventured to take that up too. It was
the portrait of a gentleman in the full prime of youthful
manhood--handsome enough, and not badly executed; but if