shining athwart a
stormy sea. By her light a laboring ship was warned off the rocks to
leeward. The room (one of the later additions) by its external promise
might have been the bower of some fashionable beauty thousands of
years ago.

Balder looked from one of these doors to the other, doubting at which
to apply. The tapestry curtain was swept aside at the base, leaving a
small passage clear to the room beyond. In this opening now appeared
the bright-crested head and eyes of the hoopoe, peeping mischievously
at the intruder, who forthwith stepped down into the conservatory,
holding forth to the little bird a friendly finger. The bird eyed him
critically, then launched itself on the air, and, alighting on a spray
above his head, warbled out a brilliant call.

Hereupon was heard within a quick rustling movement; the curtain was
thrust aside, and a youthful woman issued forth amongst the warm
plants. She was within a few feet of Balder Helwyse before seeming to
realize his presence. She caught herself motionless in an instant. The
sparkle of laughter in her eyes sank in a black depth of wonder. Her
eyes filled themselves with Balder as a lake is filled with sunshine;
and he, the man of the Wilie and philosopher, could only return her
gaze in voiceless admiration.

Were a face and form of primal perfection to appear among men, might
not its divine originality repel an ordinary observer, used to
consider beautiful such abortions of the Creator's design as sin and
degeneration have produced? Not easily can one imagine what a real man
or woman would look like. Painting nor sculpture can teach us; we must
learn, if at all, from living, electric flesh and blood.

This young woman was tall and erect with youthful majesty. She stood
like the rejoicing upgush of a living fountain. Her contour was
subtile with womanly power,--suggesting the spring of the panther, the
glide of the serpent. Warm she seemed from the bosom of nature. One
felt from her the influence of trees, the calm of meadows, the high
freedom of the blue air, the happiness of hills. She might have been
the sister of the sun.

The moulding finger of God seemed freshly to have touched her face. It
was simple and harmonious as a chord of music, yet inexhaustible in
its variety. It recalled no other face, yet might be seen in it the
germs of a mighty nation, that should begin from her and among a
myriad resemblances evolve no perfect duplicate. No angel's
counten