ith new astonishment, new delight. She
had the coquetry of a dozen women, yet her eyes looked so true. She
was a perfect elf for pranks and jokes, yet demure as a nun. When he
tried to awe her with his learning, she was saucy; if he was serious,
she was gay; if he wished to teach, she rebelled. She was self-willed
as a changeling, refractory yet gentle, seditious but just,--only
waiting to strike her colors and proclaim him conqueror; but this he
did not know, for she kept well hid in her heart what "woman's fear"
she had. She was all her favorite heroines in turn, with herself added
to the galaxy.

One day he penetrated into the library, notwithstanding some very
serious efforts on her part to prevent him: by this time he would
occasionally assert himself. The furniture there was not much altered.
A few worn things had been replaced, but the room looked so much the
same that the scene of that first reading-lesson came vividly to his
mind. He turned to the side where the desk had stood. It was still
there, with the two chairs before it, and on it was the book. She
would not for the world have had it moved, but it was, as it were,
glorified. Mr. Archer had wished "these old things cleared away," but
Nellie had besought him so earnestly that he allowed them to stay,
stipulating, however, that they should be upholstered anew. To this
she assented, saying, "Send me the best of everything and _I_ will
cover them--the very best, mind;" and her father, willing to please
her, did as she desired.

So the old desk became smart in brocade and gold-lace, the book
received a cushion all bullion and embroidery, and the chairs emulated
the splendor. It required a poet or a girl in love to clothe a fancy
so beautifully, and Nellie was both. It was her shrine: why should she
not adorn it?

I cannot follow the process of thought in Danby's mind as he looked
at this and at Nellie--Nellie blushing with the sudden guiltiness that
even the discovery of a harmless action will bring when we wish to
conceal it. Sometimes a moment reveals much.

"Nellie"--it was the first time he had called her so since his
return--"I must give you a reading-lesson: come, sit here."

Mechanically she obeyed him, all the rebel fading away: she looked
like the Nellie of other days. She felt she had laid bare her soul,
but in proportion as her confusion overcame her did he become decided.
It is the slaves that make tyrants, it is said.

Under the impulse of