t; formed a picture in itself, that Denbigh would
have been content to gaze on for ever. Her back was to a window that threw
its strong light on the paper--the figures of which were reflected, as she
occasionally held it up to study its effect, in a large mirror so placed
that Denbigh caught a view of her subject. He knew it at a glance--the
arbor--the gun--himself, all were there; it appeared to have been drawn
before--it must have been, from its perfect state, and Emily had seized a
favorable moment to complete his own resemblance. Her touches were light
and finishing, and as the picture was frequently held up for
consideration, he had some time allowed for studying it. His own
resemblance was strong; his eyes were turned on herself, to whom Denbigh
thought she had not done ample justice, but the man who held the gun bore
no likeness to John Moseley, except in dress. A slight movement of the
muscles of the sleeper's mouth might have betrayed his consciousness, had
not Emily been too intent on the picture, as she turned it in such a way
that a strong light fell on the recoiling figure of Captain Jarvis. The
resemblance was wonderful. Denbigh thought he would have known it, had he
seen it in the Academy itself. The noise of some one approaching closed
the portfolio; it was only a servant, yet Emily did not resume her pencil.
Denbigh watched her motions, as she put the picture carefully in a private
drawer of the secretary, reopened the blind, replaced the screen, and laid
the handkerchief, the last thing on his face, with a movement almost
imperceptible to himself.

"It is later than I thought," said Denbigh, looking at his watch; "I owe
an apology, Miss Moseley, for making so free with your parlor; but I was
too lazy to move."

"Apology! Mr. Denbigh," cried Emily, with a color varying with every word
she spoke, and trembling at what she thought the nearness of detection,
"you have no apology to make for your present debility; and surely,
surely, least of all to me!"

"I understand from Mr. Moseley," continued Denbigh, with a smile, "that
our obligation is at least mutual; to your, perseverance and care, Miss
Moseley, after the physicians had given me up, I believe I am, under
Providence, indebted for my recovery."

Emily was not vain, and least of all addicted to a display of any of her
acquirements; very few even of her friends knew she ever held a pencil in
her hand; yet did she now unaccountably throw open her po