the case. Between the two cousins there existed not the
slightest congeniality of taste or disposition; not a sympathetic link save
the tie of relationship. On her part there was a moderate share of cousinly
affection; on his, as much love and tenderness as his selfish nature was
capable of feeling. They rarely quarrelled as most children do, for when
(as frequently happened) he flew into a rage and tried to tyrannize, she
scorned to retort in any way and generally locked him out of the library.
What she thought of her father's intentions concerning herself, no one
knew; she never alluded to the subject, and if in a frolicsome mood Hugh
broached it, she invariably cut the discussion short. When he went to
college in a distant state, she felt infinitely relieved, and during his
vacations secluded herself as much as possible. Yet the girl's heart was
warm and clinging; she loved her father devotedly, and loved most intensely
Electra Grey, whom she had first met at school. They were nearly the same
age, classmates, and firm friends. As totally different in character as
appearance was Electra Grey. Rather smaller and much thinner than Irene,
with shining, purplish black hair, large, sad, searching black eyes, from
which there was no escape, a pale olive complexion, and full crimson lips
that rarely smiled. Electra was a dreamer, richly gifted; dissatisfied
because she could never attain that unreal world which her busy brain kept
constantly before her.

Electra's love of drawing had early displayed itself; first, in strange,
weird figures on her slate, then in her copy-book, on every slip of paper
which she could lay her hands upon; and, finally, for want of more suitable
material, she scrawled all over the walls of the little bedroom, to the
great horror of her aunt, who spread a coat of whitewash over the child's
frescos, and begged her to be guilty of no such conduct in future, as Mr.
Clark might, with great justice, sue for damages. In utter humiliation,
Electra retreated to the garden, and here, after a shower had left the
sandy walks white and smooth, she would sharpen a bit of pine, and draw
figures and faces of all conceivable and inconceivable shapes. Chancing to
find her thus engaged one Sunday afternoon, Russell supplied her with a
package of drawing-paper, and pencils. So long as these lasted she was
perfectly happy, but unluckily their straitened circumstances admitted of
no such expenditure, and before many week