from New York. His health is poor, and he is spending the winter
south. Haven't you heard of him? Everybody is having portraits taken. He is
painting mine now--father would make me sit again, though he has a likeness
which was painted four years ago. I am going down to-morrow for my last
sitting, and should like very much for you to go with me. Perhaps Mr.
Clifton can give you some valuable hints. Will you go?"

"With great pleasure."

"Then I will call for you a little before ten o'clock. Here are some
crayons I bought for you a week ago. Good-bye."

The following day Miss Margaret accompanied her to the studio. As the
carriage approached the cottage-gate, Irene directed the driver to stop.

"For what?" asked her aunt.

"Electra Grey is going with me; I promised to call for her. She has an
extraordinary talent for drawing, and I want to introduce her to Mr.
Clifton. Open the door, Andrew."

"Irene, are you deranged? Your father never would forgive you if he knew
you associated with those people. I can't think of allowing that girl to
enter this carriage. Drive on. I must really speak to Leonard about your
obstinacy in visiting at that----"

"Stop, Andrew! If you don't choose to ride with Electra, Aunt Margaret, you
may go on alone, for either she shall ride or I will walk with her."

Andrew opened the door, and she was stepping out, when Electra appeared in
the walk and immediately joined her. Miss Margaret was thoroughly aroused
and indignant, but thought it best to submit for the time, and when Irene
introduced her friend she took no notice of her whatever, except by drawing
herself up in one corner and lowering her veil. The girls talked during the
remainder of the ride, and when they reached Mr. Clifton's door ran up the
steps together, totally unmindful of the august lady's ill humour.

The artist was standing before an easel which held Irene's unfinished
portrait, and as he turned to greet his visitors, Electra saw that, though
thin and pale, his face was one of rare beauty and benevolence. His brown,
curling hair hung loosely about his shoulders, and an uncommonly long beard
of the same silky texture descended almost to his waist. He shook hands
with Irene, and looked inquiringly at her companion.

"Mr. Clifton, this is Miss Electra Grey, whose drawings I mentioned to you
last week. I wish, if you please, you would examine some of them when you
have leisure."

Electra looked for an instant into his la