"She's not nearly so pretty as you."
"In other words, she's infinitely more good. I'm sure I hope she is. But why did you leave her behind you?"
"She's with a sister, a sad invalid, who is drinking mineral waters on the Rhine. They wished to remain there to the cold weather. They're to be home in a couple of weeks, and we are straightway to be married."
"I congratulate you, with all my heart," said Marian.
"Allow me to do as much, sir," said Mr. Everett, waking up; which he did by instinct whenever the conversation took a ceremonious turn.
Miss Everett gave her companion but three more sittings, a large part of his work being executed with the assistance of photographs. At these interviews also, Mr. Everett was present, and still delicately sensitive to the soporific influences of his position. But both parties had the good taste to abstain from further reference to their old relations, and to confine their talk to less personal themes.
WITH MY BOOK
SHE waits, "to curiosity a prey,"
Wondering what gift will greet her festive day;
Fly, thou dull thing! and hail her with a song:
I have withheld my messenger too long;
For in those eyes the beautiful disdain
Methought I saw, made me misprize my strain.
But now that Christmas brings the bolder mind
I fling my fancy to December's wind,
And my caged bird unprison to the blast,
To soar, and light upon her hand at last.
Go greet my lady, not where flatterers throng,
But in her closet let her spell thy song;
And ask no thanks; for often with her look
She gave me many volumes for my book.
And she hath spoke not many times nor much
(Some feel a stroke what others call a touch);
But when she spoke, and when I listened first,
'Twas like an orchestra's harmonious burst;
And when she smiled, and I received her smile,
It seemed a sun-break out on Capris Isle.
