en they rose to leave did she allow her face to become sober,
and even then the twilight of her joyousness lingered in her smile as
she spoke, facing them both:

"How I have enjoyed your coming! I wanted us to have this supper
together before coming to the subject you spoke of before leaving. I
shall have to say what will give you both pain." There was a moment's
pause. Then she resumed:

"The matter has been decided for me. I can marry neither of you. My
father and all my brothers and sisters have died of consumption. I am
the only one left of five. In a few months--" She lowered her voice,
which trembled a little as she glanced toward her mother's room--"my
poor mother will be childless."

For the first time, in the imperfect light, they noticed the flushed
cheeks, and for the first time they detected the quick breathing. When
they walked away the two friends were nearer than ever by virtue of a
common sorrow.

And as day after day they visited her in company, the public, and
particularly that part of the public which peeped out of Miss Nancy
More's windows, was not a little mystified. Miss More thought a girl
who was drawing near to the solemn and awful realities of eternal bliss
should let such worldly vanities as markusses alone!

A singular change came over Priscilla in one regard. As the prospect of
life faded out, she was no longer in danger of being tempted by the
title and wealth of the marquis. She could be sure that her heart was
not bribed. And when this restraint of conscience abnormally sensitive
was removed, it became every day more and more clear to her that she
loved D'Entremont. Of all whom she had ever known, he only was a
companion. And as he brought her choice passages from favorite writers
every day, and as her mind grew with unwonted rapidity under the
influence of that strange disease which shakes down the body while it
ripens the soul, she felt more and more that she was growing out of
sympathy with all that was narrow and provincial in her former life,
and into sympathy with the great world, and with Antoine d'Entremont,
who was the representative of the world to her.

This rapidly growing gulf between his own intellectual life and that of
Priscilla Henry Stevens felt keenly. But there is one great
compensation for a soul like Henry's. Men and women of greater gifts
might outstrip him in intellectual growth. He could not add one cell to
his brain, or make the slightest change in his tem