ss
Cardigan's parlour with whom she had business. I sat up and forgot my
books. The first impulse was to go in immediately and show myself. I
can hardly tell what restrained me. I remembered that Miss Cardigan
must have business with him, and I had better not interrupt it. But
those sounds of laughter had not been very business-like, either. Nor
were they business words which came through the open door. I never
thought or knew I was listening. I only thought it was Thorold, and
held my breath to hear, or rather to feel. My ears seemed sharpened
beyond all their usual faculty.

"And you haven't gone and fallen in love, callant, meanwhile, just to
complicate affairs?" said the voice of Miss Cardigan.

"I shall never fall in love," said Thorold, with (I suppose) mock
gravity. His voice sounded so.

"Why not?"

"I require too much."

"It's like your conceit!" said Miss Cardigan. "Now, what is it that
you require? I would like to know; that is, if you know yourself. It
appears that you have thought about it."

"I have thought, till I have got it all by heart," said Thorold. "The
worst is, I shall never find it in this world."

"That's likely. Come, lad, paint your picture, and I'll tell you if
_I_ know where to look," said Miss Cardigan.

"And then you'll search for me?"

"I dinna ken if you deserve it," said Miss Cardigan.

"I don't deserve it, of course," said Thorold. "Well--I have painted
the likeness a good many times. The first thing is a pair of eyes as
deep and grey as our mountain lakes."

"I never heard that your Vermont lakes were _grey_," said Miss
Cardigan.

"Oh, but they are! when the shadow of the mountains closes them in. It
is not cold grey, but purple and brown, the shadow of light, as it
were; the lake is in shadow. Only, if a bit of blue _does_ show itself
there, it is the very heaven."

"I hope that it is not going to be in poetry?" said Miss Cardigan's
voice, sounding dry and amused. "What is the next thing? It is a very
good picture of eyes."

"The next thing is a mouth that makes you think of nothing but kissing
it; the lines are so sweet, and so mobile, and at the same time so
curiously subdued. A mouth that has learned to smile when things don't
go right; and that has learned the lesson so well, you cannot help
thinking it must have often known things go wrong; to get the habit so
well, you know."

"Eh?--Why, boy!"--cried Miss Cardigan.

"Do you know anybody like it?" said Tho