s she was again without materials.
She would not tell Russell that she had exhausted his package, and passed
sleepless nights trying to devise some method by which she could aid
herself. It was positive torture for her to sit in school and see the
drawing-master go round, giving lessons on this side and that, skipping
over her every time, because her aunt could not afford the extra three
dollars. Amid all these yearnings and aspirations she turned constantly to
Russell, with a worshipping love that knew no bounds. She loved her meek
affectionate aunt as well as most natures love their mothers, and did all
in her power to lighten her labours, but her affection for Russell bordered
on adoration. In a character so exacting and passionate as hers there is
necessarily much of jealousy, and thus it came to pass that, on the day of
Irene's visit to the cottage, the horrible suspicion took possession of her
that he loved Irene better than herself. True, she was very young, but
childish hearts feel as keenly as those of matured years; and Electra
endured more agony during that day than in all her past life. Had Irene
been other than she was, in every respect, she would probably have hated
her cordially; as matters stood, she buried the suspicion deep in her own
heart, and kept as much out of everybody's way as possible. Days and weeks
passed very wearily; she busied herself with her text-books, and when the
lessons had been recited, drew all over the margins--here a hand, there an
entire arm, now and then a face, sad-eyed as Fate.

Mrs. Aubrey's eyes became so blurred that finally she could not leave the
house without having some one to guide her, and, as cold weather had now
arrived, preparations were made for her journey. Mr. Hill, who was going to
New Orleans, kindly offered to take charge of her, and the day of departure
was fixed. Electra packed the little trunk, saw it deposited on the top of
the stage in the dawn of an October morning, saw her aunt comfortably
seated beside Mr. Hill, and in another moment all had vanished. In the
afternoon of that day, on returning from school, Electra went to the
bureau, and, unlocking a drawer, took out a small paper box. It contained a
miniature of her father, set in a handsome gold frame. She knew it had been
her mother's most valued trinket; her aunt had carefully kept it for her,
and as often as the temptation assailed her she had resisted; but now the
longing for money triumphed over