re overnight?--we missed one of our fair
attendants. Was it Aegle, Arethusa, or Hesperia? Narcissus probably
knew. And on the next she was still missing; nor on the third had she
returned; but lo! there was another in her stead--and on her Narcissus
bent his gaze, according to wont. A little maid, with noticeable eyes,
and the hair Rossetti loved to paint--called Hesper, 'by many,' said
Narcissus, one day long after, solemnly quoting the Vita Nuova, 'who
know not wherefore.'

'Why! do _you_ know?' I asked.

'Yes!' And then, for the first time, he had told me the story I have now
to tell again. He had, meanwhile, rather surprised me by little touches
of intimate observation of her which he occasionally let slip--as, for
instance, 'Have you noticed her forehead? It has a fine distinction of
form; is pure ivory, surely; and you should watch how deliciously her
hair springs out of it, like little wavy threads of "old gold" set in
the ivory by some cunning artist.'

I had just looked at him and wondered a moment. But such attentive
regard was hardly matter for surprise in his case; and, moreover, I
always tried to avoid the subject of women with him, for it was the one
on which alone there was danger of our disagreeing. It was the only one
in which he seemed to show signs of cruelty in his disposition, though
it was, I well know, but a thoughtless cruelty; and in my heart I always
felt that he was too right-minded and noble in the other great matters
of life not to come right on that too when 'the hour had struck.'
Meanwhile, he had a way of classifying amours by the number of verses
inspired--as, 'Heigho! it's all over; but never mind, I got two sonnets
out of her'--which seemed to me an exhibition of the worst side of his
artist disposition, and which--well, Reader, jarred much on one who
already knew what a true love meant. It was, however, I could see, quite
unconscious; and I tried hard not to be intolerant towards him, because
fortune had blessed me with an earlier illumination.

Pray, go not away with the misconception that Narcissus was ever base to
a woman. No! he left that to Circe's hogs, and the one temptation he
ever had towards it he turned into a shining salvation. No! he had
nothing worse than the sins of the young egoist to answer for, though he
afterwards came to feel those pitiful and mean enough.

Another noticeable feature of Hesper's face was an ever-present
sadness--not as of a dull grief, but as