his hat.

"Mr. Clifton has a spare room, Russell; why can't you stay with us while
you are in New York?"

"Thank you; but Mr. Campbell will expect me at the hotel. I shall be
needed, too, as he has many letters to write. I will see you to-morrow, and
indeed every day while I remain in the city."

"Then pay your visits in the morning, for I want to take your portrait with
my own hands. Give me a sitting as early as possible."

"Very well; look for me to-morrow. Good night."

The week that followed was one of strangely mingled sorrows and joys; in
after years it served as a prominent landmark to which she looked back and
dated sad changes in her heart. Irene remained ignorant of Russell's
presence in the city, and at last the day dawned on which the vessel was to
sail. At the breakfast table Mr. Clifton noticed the colourlessness of his
pupil's face, but kindly abstained from any allusion to it. He saw that,
contrary to habit, she drank a cup of coffee, and, arresting her arm as she
requested his mother to give her a second, he said gently--

"My dear child, where did you suddenly find such Turkish tastes? I thought
you disliked coffee?"

"I take it now as medicine. My head aches horribly."

"Then let me prescribe for you. We will go down to the steamer with
Russell, and afterward take a long drive to Greenwood, if you like."

"He said he would call here at ten o'clock to bid us farewell."

"_N'importe._ The carriage will be ready, and we will accompany him."

At the appointed hour they repaired to the vessel, and, looking at its
huge sides, Electra coveted even a deck passage; envied the meanest who
hurried about, making all things ready for departure. The last bell rang;
people crowded down on the planks; Russell hastened back to the carriage,
and took the nerveless, gloved hand.

"I will write as early as possible. Don't be uneasy about me; no accident
has ever happened on this line. I am glad I leave you with such a friend as
Mr. Clifton. Good-bye, cousin; it will not be very long before we meet
again."

He kissed the passive lips, shook hands with the artist, and sprang on
board just as the planks were withdrawn. The vessel moved majestically on
its way; friends on shore waved handkerchiefs to friends departing, and
hands were kissed and hats lifted, and then the crowd slowly dispersed--for
steamers sail every week, and people become accustomed to the spectacle.

"Are you ready to go now?" asked Mr. C