Travers, who has moved here since you left three years ago, wants the picture of his only child painted, and the cast for a statue taken."
"But, my friend, you are unduly excited; that is not so strange a task. That is easy enough."
"But she is dead," he whispered, "come up to your studio, and while you are preparing your materials I will tell about it."
It seems that Elinor Travers, after her graduation, went to Europe with her father's sister, intending to be gone a year or more; but when they had been gone less than three months the aunt was recalled by the severe illness of some of her people. It also happened that Elinor was at that time confined to her bed with a slight fever, but of enough consequence that the doctor in attendance said he could not think of allowing her to be removed, as it would be at the risk of her life. So the girl being in good hands, as she thought, the aunt decided to leave her for the present as she could do nothing else.
Elinor soon recovered, and wrote for permission to stay until she was ready to return; said she was having a delightful time, and never was better in her life. Her father consented, and said he would himself go for her when she was ready. She was living in a private family of great wealth and importance, which consisted of a father and an only son and daughter, she and Elinor being of about the same age. Before the year had expired, Mr. Travers sold his country seat, and moved to Boston to be nearer medical aid, and for the benefit of the sea air, as his health seemed to be declining; but his daughter's presence would have done him more good than all the tonics in the world. A year and a half from her departure the girl returned alone, without any warning, but so changed that her father scarcely recognized her. She was taller, paler, thinner, and oh, so sad. She never was the same again; she was nervous, easily startled and had a haunted look in her lovely eyes pitiful to behold. She accounted for the change by telling how homesick she had been, and how ill upon the voyage. And her father was so glad to have her back that he was satisfied with the explanations; not so, her lover. Seldom could any one induce her to go out, and when she did it was always closely veiled. Prior to her departure there had been talk of an engagement between her and Earl Melville, but after her return all was over between them, she absolutely refusing any overtures of love from him, but promising to be a true friend to him forever, if he so wished. In lieu of a closer relationship, when he found no prayers would change her resolve, he was thankful to receive so much favor even from the girl he so fondly loved. She was sixteen when she went away; she had died in her thirty-fifth year, and in the quiet, peaceful sleep of death looked no more than twenty-five. Earl had always desired to go to Italy and try to find out what had so changed his darling, but delicacy had hindered him. If Elinor had a secret, he thought, was it for him to trouble her by unearthing it? But oh, if he only had Jack! Well, then this story had never been written, but such untold misery had been saved to all concerned. She had been a mystery all these years to father, lover, and friends, and a mystery she remained in death. Earl said in conclusion, "The doctors were and are puzzled, and as Mr. Travers will not listen to any talk of a post-mortem examination, they are compelled to call it death from heart disease. I could tell them better than
