of it?"

"I think it was hard," said Faith smiling.

"What would you have done if you had been left so?"

"I would not have been left so."

"But you might not help yourself. Suppose it had been a father's or a
mother's command? that anybody might come up and have you, for the
finding--if they could pitch upon the right box of jewelry?"

"My father or mother would never have put such a command on me," said
Faith looking amused.

"But you may _suppose_ anything," said the doctor leaning forward and
smiling. "_Suppose_ they had?"

"Then you must suppose me different too," said Faith laughing. "Suppose
me to have been like Portia; and I should have done as she did."

The doctor shook his head and looked gravely at her.

"Are you so impracticable?"

"Was she?" said Faith.

"Then you wouldn't think it right to obey Mrs. Derrick in all
circumstances?"

"Not if she was Portia's mother," said Faith.

"Suppose you had been the Prince of Arragon--which casket would you
have chosen?" said Mr. Linden, as he came from his table, letter in
hand.

"I suppose I should have chosen as he did," said the doctor
carelessly--"I really don't remember how that was. I'll tell you when I
come to him. Have you done letter-writing?"

"I have done writing letters, for to-night. Have I permission to go to
Venice in your train?"

"I am only a locomotive," said the doctor. "But you know, with two a
train goes faster. If you had another copy of the play, now,
Linden--and we should read it as I have read Shakspeare in certain
former times--take different parts--I presume the effect would excel
steam-power, and be electric. Can you?"

This was agreed to, and the "effect" almost equalled the doctor's
prognostications. Even Mrs. Derrick, who had somewhat carelessly held
aloof from his single presentation of the play, was fascinated now, and
drew near and dropped her knitting. It would have been a very rare
entertainment to any that had heard it; but for once an audience of two
was sufficient for the stimulus and reward of the readers. That and the
actual enjoyment of the parts they were playing. Dr. Harrison read
well, with cultivated and critical accuracy. His voice was good and
melodious, his English enunciation excellent; his knowledge of his
author thorough, as far as acquaintanceship went; and his habit of
reading a dramatically practised one. But Faith, amid all her delight,
had felt a want in it, as compared with the reading t