artist, apart from her
novel subject, perhaps went further to remove her uneasiness than any
serious conviction of the professor's theory. Nevertheless, it appealed
to her poetic and mystic imagination, and although other subjects from
her brush met with equally phenomenal success, and she was able in a
year to return to America with a reputation assured beyond criticism,
she never entirely forgot the strange incident connected with her
initial effort.

And by degrees a singular change came over her. Rich, famous, and
attractive, she began to experience a sentimental and romantic
interest in that episode. Once, when reproached by her friends for her
indifference to her admirers, she had half laughingly replied that she
had once found her "ideal," but never would again. Yet the jest had
scarcely passed her lips before she became pale and silent. With this
change came also a desire to re-purchase the picture, which she had
sold in her early success to a speculative American picture-dealer. On
inquiry she found, alas! that it had been sold only a day or two before
to a Chicago gentleman, of the name of Potter, who had taken a fancy to
it.

Miss Forrest curled her pretty lip, but, nothing daunted, resolved
to effect her purpose, and sought the purchaser at his hotel. She was
ushered into a private drawing-room, where, on a handsome easel, stood
the newly acquired purchase. Mr. Potter was out, "but would return in a
moment."

Miss Forrest was relieved, for, alone and undisturbed, she could now let
her full soul go out to her romantic creation. As she stood there, she
felt the glamour of the old English garden come back to her, the play of
light and shadow, the silent pool, the godlike face and bust, with its
cast-down, meditative eyes, seen through the parted reeds. She clasped
her hands silently before her. Should she never see it again as then?

"Pray don't let me disturb you; but won't you take a seat?"

Miss Forrest turned sharply round. Then she started, uttered a
frightened little cry, and fainted away.

Mr. Potter was touched, but a master of himself. As she came to, he
said quietly: "I came upon you suddenly--as you stood entranced by this
picture--just as I did when I first saw it. That's why I bought it.
Are you any relative of the Miss Forrest who painted it?" he continued,
quietly looking at her card, which he held in his hand.

Miss Forrest recovered herself sufficiently to reply, and stated her
busine