ame more distinct and
reliable; and I saw that there were but three persons in the room, a man
and two females.

I remained silent, not certain but that the scene before me was only
some new phase of my dream. My eyes wandered from one of the living
figures to another, without attracting the attention of any of them.

They were all in different attitudes, and occupied differently.

Nearest me was a woman of middle age, seated upon a low ottoman. The
harp I had heard was before her, and she continued to play. She must
have been, I thought, when young, a woman of extreme beauty. She was
still beautiful in a certain sense. The noble features were there,
though I could perceive that they had been scathed by more than ordinary
suffering of the mind.

She was a Frenchwoman: an ethnologist could have told that at a glance.
Those lines, the characteristics of her highly gifted race, were easily
traceable. I thought there was a time when that face had witched many a
heart with its smiles. There were no smiles on it now, but a deep yet
intellectual expression of melancholy. This I perceived, too, in her
voice, in her song, in every note that vibrated from the strings of the
instrument.

My eye wandered farther. A man of more than middle age stood by the
table, near the centre of the room. His face was turned towards me, and
his nationality was as easily determined as that of the lady. The high,
florid cheeks, the broad front, the prominent chin, the small green cap
with its long peak and conical crown, the blue spectacles, were all
characteristics. He was a German.

His occupation was also characteristic of his nationality. Before him
were strewed over the table, and upon the floor, the objects of his
study--plants and shrubs of various species. He was busy with these,
classifying and carefully laying them out between the leaves of his
portfolio. It was evident that the old man was a botanist.

A glance to the right, and the naturalist and his labours were no longer
regarded. I was looking upon the loveliest object that ever came before
my eyes, and my heart bounded within me, as I strained forward in the
intensity of its admiration.

Yet it was not a woman that held my gaze captive, but a child--a girl--a
maid--standing upon the threshold of womanhood, ready to cross it at the
first summons of Love!

My eyes, delighted, revelled along the graceful curves that outlined the
beautiful being before me. I