ow, and nine months is quite an epoch in our existence--so many
things change in nine months!

[Sidenote: A Startling Visitor]

Hamilton smiled; it was rare to hear one beauty acknowledge another. He
bent his head to make some remark that her ear alone might catch, but as
he did so a slight stir at the door attracted his attention, and he
looked up.

The sight that met his gaze froze the smile on his lips; with a start
which he could scarcely conceal the blood left his cheeks; him face
became stern and white as death.

There stood Eily herself, behind her the page who did duty at the door.
The boy was pulling angrily at her sleeve, and an altercation was going
on.

"Shure 'tis himself will be glad to see me, ye spalpeen! Shame on yez
to insult a poor girl. Musha, is it Misther Hamilton within and ashamed
to spake to his Eily!"

One more moment, then within that room in which art, and beauty, and
refinement were gathered in one harmonious whole, a figure stole shyly.

It was a young girl, gaudily attired in a blue dress; a hat, encircled
by a long pink feather, crowned a face that was beautiful, were it not
that it was marred by its many adornments. Gilt earrings glistened in
the ears, a dark curly fringe covered forehead and eyebrows, and the
chin was embedded in a tawdry feather boa of a muddy hue. An excited
flush lay on her cheeks as she looked at the gay crowd within, searching
for the loved face.

At last a joyful recognition shone in her dark eyes, and forgetful of
everything and everybody, she rushed across the polished floor to the
horror-stricken artist.

"Ah, Misther Hamilton, acushla! shure it's your own Eily has found yez
at last!" She caught the artist's hand in her own impulsively--"Arrah,
but it's the wide world I have searched, and I've found yez at last!"

Silence had fallen on that part of the room where this little
_contretemps_ was taking place. Hamilton saw the looks of wonderment on
his guests' faces change into an amused smile as the little comedy
progressed.

The girl was looking earnestly at him.

"Shure, you do not forget your own Eily--the girl you made into the
picthur, your colleen oge! But maybe it's the jiwils and the clothes
that has changed me; it's mighty grand they make me, to be sure, but it
was so you should not be ashamed of me I put them on. Arrah, shpake to
me, and let me hear the sound of your voice!"

She looked pleadingly into his eyes, but he was speechless. A