from loneliness, I wish I could talk to some one
so happily constituted."

Miriam had become mute, and in a minute or two she rose to speak to a
lady who was passing. As she stood there, Mallard regarded her at his
case. She was admirably dressed to-night, and looked younger than of
wont. Losing sight of her, owing to people who came between, Mallard
fell into a brown study, an anxious smile on his lips.

On the second morning after that, he interrupted his work to sit down
and pen a short letter. "Dear Mrs. Baske," he began then pondered, and
rose to give a touch to the picture on which his eyes were fixed. But
he seated himself again, and wrote on rapidly. "Would you do me the
kindness to come here to-morrow early in the afternoon? If you have an
engagement, the day after would do. But please to come, if you can; I
wish to see you."

There was no reply to this. At the time he had mentioned; Mallard
walked about his room in impatience. Just before three o'clock, his ear
caught a footstep outside, and a knock at the door followed.

"Come in!" he shouted.

From behind the canvases appeared Miriam.

"Ah! How do you do? This is kind of you. Are you alone?"

The question was so indifferently asked, that Miriam stood in
embarrassment.

"Yes. I hare come because you asked me."

"To be sure.--Can you sew, Mrs. Baske?"

She looked at him in confusion, half indignant.

"Yes, I can sew."

"I hardly like to ask you, but--would you mend this for me? It's the
case in which I keep a large volume of engravings; the seams are coming
undone, you see."

He took up the article in question, which was of glazed cloth, and held
it to her.

"Have you a needle and thread?" she asked.

"Oh yes; here's a complete work-basket."

He watched her as she drew off her gloves.

"Will you sit here?" He pointed to a chair and a little table. "I shall
go on with my work, if you will let me. You don't mind doing this for
me?"

"Not at all."

"Is that chair comfortable?"

"Quite."

He moved away and seemed to be busy with a picture; it was on an easel
so placed that, as he stood before it, he also overlooked Miriam at her
needlework. For a time there was perfect quietness. Mallard kept
glancing at his companion, but she did not once raise her eyes. At
length he spoke.

"I have never had an opportunity of asking you what your new
impressions were of Bartles."

"The place was much the same as I left it," she answered naturally