an
ever-present air of consciousness, that left no conviction of sincerity.
Whether she uttered sentiments of affection, or sharp criticism upon
character, there was the same level flow of language, the same nicely
modulated intonation. There was no flash of enthusiasm, none of those
outbursts in which the hearer feels sure that the heart has spoken. Mrs.
Sandford was thoroughly puzzled. Marcia had never been otherwise than
kind; in fact; she seemed to be studiously careful of the feelings of
others, except when her position as reigning belle made it necessary to
cut a dangler. This methodical speech and unruffled grace of manner
might be only the result of discipline. Truth and honesty _might_ exist
as well under this artificial exterior as in a more impulsive nature.
But the world generally thinks that whoever habitually wears a smiling
mask has some secret end to serve thereby. "I like this painter,
Greenleaf," she soliloquized, "and I mean to look out for him. I am
persuaded that Marcia would never marry him; and I think he is too
sensitive, too manly, to be a fit subject for her experiments."

CHAPTER IV.

CONCERNING CONSTANCY AND THE AFFINITIES.

"A Musical _soiree_? Famous, my boy!" said Easelmann, as he sat, smoking
as usual, in his fourth-story _atelier_ with Greenleaf, watching the sun
go down. "Making progress, I see. You have nothing to do; the affair
will take care of itself."

"What affair?"

"Don't be stupid (_puff_). Your affair with Miss Sandford (_puff_).
There's a wonderful charm in music (_puff_). Two such young people might
fall in love, to be sure, without singing together (_puff_). But music
is the true _aqua regia_; it dissolves all into its own essence. A piano
and a tenor voice will do more than a siege of months, though aided by a
battery of bouquets."

"How you run on! I have called twice,--once with you, and the second
time by the lady's invitation. Besides, I told you--indiscreetly, I am
afraid--that I am really engaged to be married."

"Oh, yes, I have not forgotten the touching story (_puff_); but we get
over all things, even such passions as yours. We are plants, that thrive
very well for a while in the pots we sprouted in, but after a time we
must have a change of soil."

"I don't think we outgrow affection, honor, truth."

"That is all very pretty; but our ideas of honor and truth are apt to
change."

"I don't believe you are half so bad a fellow, Easelmann, as you woul