he
avenue as Irene stood at her window, looking out on the lawn where her life
had been passed. The breakfast-bell summoned her away, and, a half-hour
after, she saw the lofty columns of the old house fade from view, and knew
that many months, perhaps years, must elapse before the ancestral trees of
the long avenue would wave again over the head of their young mistress. Her
father sat beside her, moody and silent, and, when the brick wall and
arched iron gate vanished from her sight, she sank back in one corner, and,
covering her face with her hands, smothered a groan and fought desperately
with her voiceless anguish.

CHAPTER VI

MASTER AND PUPIL

Day after day Electra toiled over her work. The rapidity of her progress
astonished Mr. Clifton. He questioned her concerning the processes she
employed in some of her curious combinations, but the fragmentary,
abstracted nature of her conversation during the hours of instruction gave
him little satisfactory information. His interest in her increased, until
finally it became absorbing, and he gave her all the time she could spare
from home. The eagerness with which she listened to his directions, the
facility with which she applied his rules, fully repaid him; and from day
to day he postponed his return to the North, reluctant to leave his
indefatigable pupil. Now and then the time of departure was fixed, but ere
it arrived he wavered and procrastinated.

Electra knew that his stay had been prolonged beyond his original
intention, and she dreaded the hour when she should be deprived of his aid
and advice. Though their acquaintance had been so short, a strangely strong
feeling had grown up in her heart toward him; a feeling of clinging
tenderness, blended with earnest and undying gratitude. She knew that he
understood her character and appreciated her struggles, and it soothed her
fierce, proud heart, in some degree to receive from him those tokens of
constant remembrance which she so yearned to have from Russell. She felt,
too, that she was not regarded as a stranger by the artist; she could see
his sad eyes brighten at her entrance, and detect the tremor in his hand
and voice when he spoke of going home. His health had improved, and the
heat of summer had come; why did he linger? His evenings were often spent
at the cottage, and even Mrs. Aubrey learned to smile at the sound of his
step.

One morning, as Electra finished her lesson and rose to go, he said slowly