ding to this fascination--that the
minister spoke out to me about this failing of Holdsworth's, as it
appeared to him. In return Holdsworth was subdued by the minister's
uprightness and goodness, and delighted with his clear intellect--his
strong healthy craving after further knowledge. I never met two men who
took more thorough pleasure and relish in each other's society. To
Phillis his relation continued that of an elder brother: he directed
her studies into new paths, he patiently drew out the expression of
many of her thoughts, and perplexities, and unformed theories--scarcely
ever now falling into the vein of banter which she was so slow to
understand.

One day--harvest-time--he had been drawing on a loose piece of
paper-sketching ears of corn, sketching carts drawn by bullocks and
laden with grapes--all the time talking with Phillis and me, cousin
Holman putting in her not pertinent remarks, when suddenly he said to
Phillis,--

'Keep your head still; I see a sketch! I have often tried to draw your
head from memory, and failed; but I think I can do it now. If I succeed
I will give it to your mother. You would like a portrait of your
daughter as Ceres, would you not, ma'am?'

'I should like a picture of her; yes, very much, thank you, Mr
Holdsworth; but if you put that straw in her hair,' (he was holding
some wheat ears above her passive head, looking at the effect with an
artistic eye,) 'you'll ruffle her hair. Phillis, my dear, if you're to
have your picture taken, go up-stairs, and brush your hair smooth.'

'Not on any account. I beg your pardon, but I want hair loosely
flowing.' He began to draw, looking intently at Phillis; I could see
this stare of his discomposed her--her colour came and went, her breath
quickened with the consciousness of his regard; at last, when he said,
'Please look at me for a minute or two, I want to get in the eyes,' she
looked up at him, quivered, and suddenly got up and left the room. He
did not say a word, but went on with some other part of the drawing;
his silence was unnatural, and his dark cheek blanched a little. Cousin
Holman looked up from her work, and put her spectacles down.

'What's the matter? Where is she gone?'

Holdsworth never uttered a word, but went on drawing. I felt obliged to
say something; it was stupid enough, but stupidity was better than
silence just then.

'I'll go and call her,' said I. So I went into the hall, and to the
bottom of the stairs; but