apture
upon your enemy, if you have one, without a pang."

"One would think you had just been reading Cowley's charming poem,
'Henrietta first possest.' But what is the moral to your entertaining
little romance? That love must always be transient?"

"Not necessarily, but generally. We are travelling at different rates of
progress and on different planes. Happy are the lovers who advance with
equal step, cultivating similar tastes, with agreeing theories of life
and its enjoyments!"

"Wise philosopher, how comes it, that, with so just an appreciation of
the true basis of a permanent attachment, you remain single? I see a
gray hair or two, not only on your head, but in that favorite moustache
of yours."

"Gray? Oh, yes! gray as a badger, but immortally young. As for marriage,
I'm rather past that. I had my chance; I lost it, and shall not throw
again."

Easelmann did not seem inclined to open this sealed book of his personal
history, and the friends were silent. Greenleaf at length broke the
pause.

"I acknowledge the justice of your ideas in their general application,
but in my own case they do not apply at all. I was not in my teens when
I went to Innisfield, but in the maturity of such faculties as I have.
Alice satisfies my ideal of a lovely, loving woman. She has
capabilities, taste, a thirst for improvement, and will advance in
everything to which I am led."

"I won't disturb your dreams, nor play the Mephistopheles, as you
sometimes call me. I am rather serious to-day. But here you are where
every faculty is stimulated, where you unconsciously draw in new ideas
with your daily breath. Alice remains in a country town, without
society, with few books, with no opportunity for culture in Art or in
the minor graces of society. You are not ready to marry; your ambition
forbids it, and your means will not allow it. And before the time comes
when you are ready to establish yourself, think what a difference there
may be between you! The thought is cruel, but worth your consideration
none the less.--But let us change the subject. What are you doing? Any
new orders?"

"Two new orders. One for a large picture from Mr. Sandford. The price
is not what it should be, but it will give me a living, and I am
thankful for any employment. I loathe idleness. I die, if I haven't
something to do."

"Mere uneasiness, my youthful friend! Be tranquil, and you will find
that laziness has its comforts. However, to-morrow let me se