e some meek and staid hen, who, leading a young brood of ducks
from her nest, suddenly beholds them displaying their aquatic
proclivities by plunging into the horse-pond, and performing all the
evolutions of a regatta.

"Ah, child, I fear you think too little of what you wish or intend to
make yourself!"

"Only have patience, Miss Jane, and some day I will show you all the
graces of Griselda and Gudrun the second. Dr. Grey, have you seen Mrs.
Gerome?"

"Yes,--on two occasions."

"Is she not the most extraordinary and puzzling person you ever looked
at?"

"When and where could you have met her?"

"For a few minutes only, last winter, I saw her on the beach, near
'Solitude.' We exchanged a half-dozen words, and she left an
impression on my mind which all time will not efface. Since that
evening I have frequently endeavored to surprise her on the same spot,
but only once I succeeded in catching a glimpse of a blue shawl that
fluttered in the distance. She seemed to me a beautiful, pale
priestess, consecrated to the ministry of the shrine of sorrow; and,
when I hear snubbed-dom sneering at her, and remember the hopeless
expression with which her wonderful, homeless eyes looked out across
that grey, silent sea,--I cannot avoid thinking that she is very wise
in barring her doors, and heeding the advice of Montenebi, '_Complain
not of thy woes to the public: they will no more pity thee than birds
of prey pity the wounded deer_.'"

"My acquaintance with Mrs. Gerome is too slight to warrant the
utterance of an opinion relative to her idiosyncrasies, but I am
afraid cynicism rather than grief immures her from society. Her
prematurely white hair and the remarkable pallor of her smooth
complexion combine to render her appearance piquant and unnatural;
and, certainly, there is something in her face strangely suggestive of
old Norse myths, mystery, and magic. Her features, when analyzed,
prove faultlessly regular, but her life is out of tune, and the
expression of her countenance mars what would otherwise be perfect
beauty. I can, in some degree, describe the impression she produced
upon me by quoting the lines that were suggested when I saw her this
morning, standing by Elsie Maclean's bed,--

'I saw a vision of a woman, where
Night and new morning strive for domination;
Incomparably pale, and almost fair,
And sad beyond expression.
Her eyes were like some fire-enshrining gem,
Were stately, like the s