on woman's rights, the whole resident at Buffalo, New
York--had been writing him peremptory letters and appealing to him as
a son, brother, and fellow-citizen. He would have been grateful for
another year in Rome, but what must be must be, and he had laid up
treasure which, in Buffalo, would seem infinite. They talked some time;
Rowland hoped they might meet in Switzerland, and take a walk or two
together. Singleton seemed to feel that Buffalo had marked him for her
own; he was afraid he should not see Rome again for many a year.

"So you expect to live at Buffalo?" Rowland asked sympathetically.

"Well, it will depend upon the views--upon the attitude--of my family,"
Singleton replied. "Oh, I think I shall get on; I think it can be done.
If I find it can be done, I shall really be quite proud of it; as an
artist of course I mean, you know. Do you know I have some nine hundred
sketches? I shall live in my portfolio. And so long as one is not in
Rome, pray what does it matter where one is? But how I shall envy all
you Romans--you and Mr. Gloriani, and Mr. Hudson, especially!"

"Don't envy Hudson; he has nothing to envy."

Singleton grinned at what he considered a harmless jest. "Yes, he 's
going to be the great man of our time! And I say, Mr. Mallet, is n't it
a mighty comfort that it 's we who have turned him out?"

"Between ourselves," said Rowland, "he has disappointed me."

Singleton stared, open-mouthed. "Dear me, what did you expect?"

"Truly," said Rowland to himself, "what did I expect?"

"I confess," cried Singleton, "I can't judge him rationally. He
fascinates me; he 's the sort of man one makes one's hero of."

"Strictly speaking, he is not a hero," said Rowland.

Singleton looked intensely grave, and, with almost tearful eyes, "Is
there anything amiss--anything out of the way, about him?" he timidly
asked. Then, as Rowland hesitated to reply, he quickly added, "Please,
if there is, don't tell me! I want to know no evil of him, and I think
I should hardly believe it. In my memories of this Roman artist-life,
he will be the central figure. He will stand there in radiant relief, as
beautiful and unspotted as one of his own statues!"

"Amen!" said Rowland, gravely. He remembered afresh that the sea is
inhabited by big fishes and little, and that the latter often find their
way down the throats of the former. Singleton was going to spend the
afternoon in taking last looks at certain other places, and Row