ook me to see her the other day; she seems intelligent
and agreeable, and I daresay I shall find her kind and pleasant enough."

"Since such is the programme you have marked out, I trust that no
disappointments await you, and that all your bright dreams may be realized.
But if it should prove otherwise, and you grow weary of your art, sick of
isolation, and satiated with Italy, remember that I shall welcome you home
and gladly share with you all that I possess. You are embarking in an
experiment which thousands have tried before you, and wrecked happiness
upon; but I have no right to control your future, and certainly no desire
to discourage you. At all events, I hope our separation will be brief."

A short silence followed, broken at last by Electra, who watched him keenly
as she spoke--

"Tell me something about Irene. Of course, in a small town like W----, you
must see her frequently."

"By no means. I think I have seen her but three times since her
childhood--once riding with her father, then accidentally at church, and
again a few evenings before I left, at the graveyard, where she was
dressing a tombstone with flowers. There we exchanged a few words for the
first time, and this reminds me that I am bearer of a message yet
undelivered. She inquired after you, and desired me to tender you her love
and best wishes."

"I have her here in crayons; tell me what you think of the likeness."

She took down a portfolio and selected the head of her quondam playmate,
holding it under the gaslight, and still scrutinizing her cousin's
countenance. He took it, and looked gravely, earnestly, at the lovely
features.

"It scarcely does her justice; I doubt whether any portrait ever will.
Beside, the expression of her face has changed materially since this was
sketched. There is a harder outline now about her mouth, less of dreaminess
in the eyes, more of cold _hauteur_ in the whole face. If you desire it, I
can in one line of Tennyson photograph her proud beauty, as I saw her
mounted on her favourite horse, the week that I left home--

"'Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null!'"

He laid the drawing back in the open portfolio, crossed the room, and took
up his hat.

"Where are you going, Russell? Can't you spend the evening with me at Aunt
Ruth's?"

"No, thank you; I must go. There is to be a great political meeting at
Tammany Hall to-night, and I am particularly anxious to attend."

"What! are you, to