ps you have
seen Wilson's portrait of me, the one with the grayish green background;
you notice that the eyes were turned from the spectator, and half shaded
by white lid and gilded lash. He could not catch the flitting spark that
made them mine, and refused to paint them at all. My son promises to be
as perfect in his way as I in mine. Just now a student, he is too
Raphael-angel-like to suit me; but the very fellow to bewilder girls and
set the boarding schools crazy. Luckily he is bound against inthralment.

By and by the house grew so lonely that I was fain to send for Leonora
to make durance less vile. It was positively refreshing to hear her
voice sing through the solemn old hall. Very warm was the welcome she
received from both Fred and me. He had often said she was the only woman
he could talk to without suppressing a yawn. It was ungallant of him,
but I could sympathize with the sentiment. Women usually weary me. I
told Leonora she must make up her mind to stay with me, as long as she
remained unmarried.

Fred, holding her hand, laughingly made her promise never to take a
husband without his consent. While I passed on, he drew her back; the
mirror above the door framed a picture prettier than I liked to see.

'There is but one man I will authorize you to marry,' said my son.

Then it suddenly flashed on my mind that Fred was of the age of Scott's
heroes, and would be sure to fall in love with a woman older than
himself. The love did not matter so much, but marriage would be an
absurdity. I expected to have a daughter-in-law some day or other; but
it was never to be Leonora. In a hundred ways she had resisted me, and
overcome me. I was as resolutely opposed to her, as if she had been my
enemy. She was a connection of the family, independent, yet in some sort
alone in the world. If it had been conferring a favor on her, to ask her
to stay with me, be sure I never would have uttered a persuasive word.
But it was asking her to leave gay society, and the incense of
admiration, to bury herself in a dull house. Then she was 'ornamental;'
I liked to see her about; she was satirical, and pleased me by a little
spicy abuse. They called her handsome. She _was_ too small, I think, too
slight, perhaps; and then her complexion was almost swarthy. But her
hair was fine, her eyes large and brilliant, and her mouth mobile and
sweet. The face was nothing to me; but her companionship was enlivening.

The young lady professed h