an any woman he
knew, and she was in sympathy with his highest emotions. He let her ask
innumerable questions, which he answered or not, as happened to suit his
mood. He paid no attention to Esther's remonstrances at being deprived
of her model, but whenever he wanted Catherine for any purpose, he sent
for her, and left Esther to her own resources. Catherine had her own
reasons for being docile and for keeping him in good humor. She started
with the idea that she did not intend to be painted, if she could help
it, as a first century ascetic, without color, and clothed in a
hair-cloth wrapper; and having once begun the attempt to carry her own
object, she was drawn on without the power to stop.

Her intimacy with Wharton began to make Esther uneasy, so that one day,
when Strong came up, and, missing Catherine, asked what had become of
her, she consulted him on the subject.

"Catherine has gone off with Mr. Wharton to inspect," she said. "He
comes for her or sends for her every day. What can I do about it?"

"Where is the harm?" asked Strong. "If she likes to pass an hour or two
doing that sort of thing, I should think it was good for her."

"But suppose she takes a fancy to him?"

"Oh! No woman could marry Wharton," said Strong. "He would forget her
too often, and she would lose patience with him before he thought of her
again. Give her her head! He will teach her more that is worth her
knowing than she would learn in a life-time in Aunt Sarah's parlor."

"I wish I could give her something else to amuse her."

"Well!" replied Strong. "We will invent something." Catherine returned a
few minutes later, and he asked her how she got on with the task-master,
and whether he had yet recovered her favor.

"Since the beetle turned on him," said Catherine, "we have got on like
two little blind mice. He has been as kind to me as though I were his
mother; but why is he so mysterious? He will not tell me his history."

"He is the same to us all," said Strong. "Some people think he is
ashamed of his origin. He was picked out of the gutters of Cincinnati by
some philanthropist and sent abroad for an education. The fact is that
he cares no more about his origin than you do for being a Sioux Indian,
but he had the misfortune to marry badly in Europe, and hates to talk of
it."

"Then he has a wife already, when he is breaking my young heart?"
exclaimed Catherine.

"I would like to calm your fears, my poor child," said Strong;