nt of New England Puritanism, we
can be a prosperous and noble people."

Electra had finished the bandages, and was walking slowly before the
windows, and, without looking up from the lint, which she was tying into
small packages, Irene said--

"Electra, my friend, are you sure that you realize your personal
responsibility? Your profession will give, you vast influence in forming
public taste and I hope much from its judicious use. Be careful that you
select only the highest, purest types to offer to your countrymen and
women, when Peace enables us to turn our attention to the great work of
building up a noble school of Southern Art. We want no feeble, sickly
sentimentality, nor yet the sombre austerity which seems to pervade your
mind, judging from the works you have shown me."

A slight quiver crossed the mobile features of the artist as she bit her
full lip, and asked--

"What would you pronounce the distinguishing characteristic of my works? I
saw, yesterday, that you were not fully satisfied."

"A morbid melancholy, which you seem to have fostered tenderly instead of
crushing vigorously. A disposition to dwell upon the stern and gloomy
aspects of the physical world, and to intensify and reproduce abnormal and
unhappy phases of character. Your breezy, sunshiny, joyous moods you have
kept under lock and key while in your studio."

"I admit the truth of your criticism, and I have struggled against the
spirit which hovers with clouding wings over all that I do; but the shadow
has not lifted--God knows whether it ever will. You have finished your
work; come to my room for a few minutes."

They went upstairs together; and as Electra unlocked and bent over a large
square trunk, her companion noticed a peculiar curl about the lines of the
mouth, and a heavy scowl on the broad brow.

"I want to show you the only bright, shining face I ever painted."

She unwrapped an oval portrait, placed it on the mantelpiece, and, stepping
back, fixed her gaze on Irene. She saw a tremor cross the quiet mouth, and
for some seconds the sad eyes dwelt upon the picture as if fascinated.

"It must have been a magnificent portrait of your cousin, years ago; but he
has changed materially since it was painted. He looks much older, sterner,
now."

"Irene, I value this portrait above everything else save the original; and,
as I may be called to pass through various perils, I want you to take care
of it for me until I come back to W----.