"'Why, William, on that old gray stone, Thus for the length of a half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone, And dream the time away?'

Only six ladies have found their way to you in the last half hour; with what sorcery do you draw them towards you? Tessa," speaking in a grave tone, "it's a beautiful thing for a woman to be attractive to women!"

"It is a very happy thing."

"Will you go to supper with me or do you prefer to sit on the old gray stone? You once liked to go with me to get rid of poor Harrison; is there any one that you wish to rid yourself of now? In these extremities I am at your service."

"Are you taking me to rid yourself of a pertinacious maiden?"

"No, the girls do not trouble me; I wish they would; if Naughty Nan would only run after me, now-there! there goes Towne; _he's_ after her, I know."

Tessa enjoyed the roguish, demure eyes with which she made room for him at her side, and flashed back a congratulation in return for the little nod of triumph which Nan telegraphed to her.

"You are in league, you two; I can see that with my short-sighted eyes; say, you and he were prime friends once, weren't you?"

"We are now."

"Humph! as they say in books! Why don't _you_ bring him with your eyes, then?"

"What for?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, because he has money; he is a moral and respectable young man, also."

"You are something of a phrenologist; tell me what he is."

"I will not. You will be thinking about him instead of about me."

"I will be thinking of your deep knowledge of human nature, of your unrivalled penetration. Don't you know that a woman likes to hear one man talk about another?"

"But you would not take my opinion, nevertheless."

"True; I prefer my own unless yours confirm mine. Tell me, please, what is he!"

"I have never given him five minutes' thought."

"You know his face; look away from him and think."

"He isn't a genius; but he has brains," replied Mr. Hammerton slowly; "he is very quiet, as quiet as any man you know; he is very gentle, his manner is perfection in a sick room-and nowhere else, I fancy-"

"That's too bad."

"Remember that I do not know him; I am speaking as a phrenologist; I have never been introduced to him. He does not understand human nature, he could live a year under the roof with you or me, particularly you, and not feel acquainted with you; he is shy of women, he never knows whether they are talking sense or nonsense; he is not a lady's man in the least, you may drop your handkerchief and stoop for it, he would never know it."

"Neither would you."

"He can keep a secret, that he can do to perfection. Tell him that you are in love with him and he will never, never tell! He is no musician.

Naughty Nan may break her wrists and the keys of the piano, they will not unlock his ears or his heart; he is not fluent in conversation, he states a fact briefly, he answers a question exactly, he has no more to say; but he is a good listener, he does not forget; he is sympathetic, but he does not show it particularly, very few would think that he has any heart at all; I will wager that not two people in the world know him, understand, or can easily approach him; his temper is even, but when he _is_ angry 'beware the fury of a patient man!' He likes to see things orderly; he seldom raises his voice; he is exceedingly deliberate, and while he _is_ deliberating he would do or leave undone many things that he would afterward regret. He will rush into matrimony, or he will be in love for years before he knows it; his temperament is bilious. Now, Lady Blue, have I described a hero fit for a modern romance?"

"No, only a commonplace man. All you have said is literally true."

"He is a _good_ man," said Mr. Hammerton, emphatically. "I mean, good as men go, in these days. Naughty Nan is to be congratulated. Do you not think so?"

"Perhaps," said Tessa doubtfully.

"I believe that he is planning an attack on the citadel under my charge; I will move off, and give him an opportunity; I want to talk to the Professor."

How many years ago was it since Felix had attended one of Mary Sherwood's little parties? Not more than three or four; she remembered how he used to hear her voice in its lightest speaking, how soon he became aware whenever she changed her position; how many times she had raised her eyes to meet his with their fixed, intense gaze; how his eyes would glitter and what a set look would stiffen his lips. And oh, how she had teased him in those days by refusing his eagerly proffered attentions and accepting Gus Hammerton in the matter-of-fact fashion in which he had suggested himself as ever at her service! In all the years she could remember these two, Gus, helpful and friendly, not in the least lover-like (she could as easily imagine the bell on the old Academy a lover), and Felix, poor Felix,-he would always be "poor Felix"

now,-with his burning jealousy and intrusive affection.

Was he asleep now, or awake and in pain? Was he lying alone thinking of what he might have been but for his own undisciplined eagerness, not daring to look into the future nights and days, that would be like these, only more helpless, more terrible?

The talk and laughter ran on, her cheeks were hot, her head weary; she longed for a cool pillow and a dark chamber; some one was speaking, she lifted her eyes to reply.

"Miss Tessa, my mother misses you every hour."

"I am very sorry. There is room on my sofa, will you sit down?"

"No. I was too hasty in our last conversation," bending so low that his breath touched her hair, "I come to ask you to reconsider; will you?"

"Do you want such an answer as that would be?"

"That is what I do want; then you will be sure, so sure that you will never change-"

"I am not changeable."

"I think you are; in six months I will come to you again, when shall it be?"

"So long! If you care, the suspense will be very hard for you. I do not like to hurt you so."

"I prefer the six months."

"Well," speaking in her ordinary tone, "do not come to me, wherever I may be-we may both be in the next world by that time-"

"We shall not be so much changed as to forget, shall we?"

"Or not to care? I will write you a letter on the first day of June; I will mail it before ten o'clock."

She laid her hand in his; he held it a moment, neither speaking.

"Oh, you _are_ here," cried a voice.

And she was talking the wildest nonsense in two minutes, with her eyes and cheeks aflame.

At half past one the last guests had departed; Mary paused in a description of somebody's dress and asked Tessa if she would like to go to bed.

"I have always wished to get near to you," said Nan, leading the way up-stairs. "I knew that there was a place in your heart for me to creep into."

Tessa had a way of falling in love with girls; that night she fell in love with Nan Gerard; sitting on the carpet close to the register in a white skirt and crimson breakfast sacque, bending forward with her arms clasping her knees, she told Tessa the story of her life.