idently studied the subject, not as an
artist, but as a philosopher--but with so clear a comprehension of
the art, that from the mere science, he was able to lead the mind
upward into the fullest appreciation of the grander ideal.

Now and then as he talked, Mr. Dexter passed in a brief sentence;
but to the keen, intelligent perception of his wife, what mere
sounding words were his empty common-places! The contrast between
him and Hendrickson was painful. It was in vain that she tried not
to make this contrast. It thrust itself upon her, in spite of all
resistance.

Mr. Florence had crossed the room with his wife, and joined the
little circle. He did not take part in the conversation, and now
said, rising as he spoke.

"Come, Dexter; let's you and I have a game of billiards."

He laid his band familiarly on the arm of Mr. Dexter, and that
individual could not refuse to accept the invitation. They left the
room together. This withdrawal of Mr. Dexter put both his wife and
Mr. Hendrickson more at their ease. Both felt his absence as a
relief. For a time the conversation was chiefly conducted by the
latter and Mrs. Florence, only an occasional remark falling from the
lips of Mrs. Dexter, and that almost extorted by question or
reference. But gradually she was drawn in, and led on, until she was
the talker and they the listeners.

When interested in conversation, a fine enthusiasm always gave to
the manners of Mrs. Dexter a charming grace, and to her beautiful
countenance a higher beauty. She was almost fascinating. Never had
Hendrickson felt her power as he felt it now, while looking into her
animated face, and listening to sentiment, description, criticism or
anecdote, flowing from her lips in eloquent language, and evincing a
degree of taste, discrimination, refinement and observation he could
scarcely have imagined in one of her age.

He was leaning towards her, and listening with rapt interest, his
countenance and eyes full of admiration, when a quick, impatient
_ahem_ caused him to look up. As he did so, he encountered the
severe face and piercing eyes of Mr. Dexter. The sudden change in
the expression of his countenance warned Mrs. Dexter of the presence
of her husband, who had approached quietly, and was standing a pace
or two behind his wife. But not the slightest consciousness of this
presence did her manner exhibit. She kept on talking as before, and
talking to Mr. Hendrickson.

"Will you go with me now