u mean?" exclaimed the
youth.

"I don't understand you," said the girl, looking up in surprise.

"Why, Kathy, I had supposed you were drawing that magnificent landscape
all this time, and--and you've only been drawing a group of shells.
Splendidly done, I admit, but why----"

He stopped at that moment, for her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"Forgive me, dear child," said Nigel, hurriedly; "I did not intend to
hurt your feelings. I was only surprised at your preference."

"You have not hurt me," returned Kathy in a low voice, as she resumed
her work, "but what you say calls back to me--my father was very fond of
shells."

She stopped, and Nigel, blaming himself for having inadvertently touched
some tender chord, hastened, somewhat clumsily, to change the subject.

"You draw landscape also, I doubt not?"

"Oh yes--plenty. If you come home to me to-night, I will show you some."

"I shall be only too happy," returned the youth, sitting down again to
his sketch, "and perhaps I may be able to give you a hint or
two--especially in reference to perspective--for I've had regular
training, you know, Kathy, and I dare say you have not had that here."

"Not what you will think much, perhaps, yet I have study a little in
school, and _very_ much from Nature."

"Well, you have been under the best of masters," returned Nigel, "if you
have studied much from Nature. And who has been your other teacher?"

"A brother of Mr. Ross. I think he must understand very much. He was an
engineer, and has explained to me the rules of perspective, and many
other things which were at first very hard to understand. But I do see
them now."

"Perhaps then, Kathleen," said Nigel, in that drawling, absent tone in
which artists are apt to indulge when busy at work--"perhaps you may be
already too far advanced to require instruction from me."

"Perhaps--but I think no, for you seems to understand a great deal. But
why you call me Kathleen just now?"

"Because I suppose that is your real name--Kathy being the short for it.
Is it not so?"

"Well, p'raps it is. I have hear mother Holbein say so once. I like
Kathleen best."

"Then, may I call you Kathleen?"

"If you like."

At this point both artists had become so engrossed in their occupation
that they ceased to converse, and for a considerable time profound
silence reigned--at least on their part, though not as regarded others,
for every now and then the faint sound of laughter came f