ould not his brush accomplish.

Swinging in his seat he readjusted the rain-cloak and painting-kit
that were strapped to his saddle-bags, and rode on, his slouch hat
pushed back from his forehead to cool his brow, his gray riding-coat
unbuttoned and hanging loose, the brown riding-boots gripped about the
mare's girth.

As he neared his destination the concluding lines of the letter of
introduction tucked away in his pocket kept recurring to his mind. He
was glad his subject was to be a woman--one near his own age. Women
understood him better, and he them. It was the face and shoulders of a
young and pretty woman--and a countess, too--which had won for him his
first Honorable Mention in Munich. Would he be as lucky with the face
and shoulders of the "beautiful girl-wife of Judge Colton"?

Soon the chimneys and big dormer-windows of Derwood Manor, surmounting
the spacious colonial porch with its high pillars, rose above the
skirting of trees. Then came the quaint gate with its brick posts
topped by stone urns, through which swept a wide road bordered by
lilac bushes. Dismounting at the horse-block the young painter handed
the reins to a negro boy who had advanced to meet him, and, making his
way through a group of pickaninnies and snuffing hounds, mounted the
porch.

The Judge was waiting for him on the top step with both hands
outstretched in welcome; a man of fifty, smooth-shaven, with iron-gray
hair, a thin, straight mouth and a jaw as square as a law book.

"You needn't look for your letter, Mr. Gregg," he exclaimed heartily.
"The nephew of my old classmate is always a welcome guest at Derwood
Manor. We have been expecting you all the morning--" and the Judge
shook the young man's hand as if he had known him from babyhood. It
was in the early fifties and the hatreds of later years were unknown
among men of equal social position in a land where hospitality was a
religion. "Let me present you to Mrs. Colton and my little son, Phil."

Adam turned, and it seemed to him as if the glory of all the blossoms
he had seen that day had gone into the making of a woman. Dressed all
in white, a wide blue sash about her slender waist; graceful as a
budding branch swaying in a summer wind; with eyes like rifts of blue
seen through clouds of peach bloom; hair of spun gold in lifted waves
about her head, one loosened curl straying over her beautiful
shoulders; mouth and teeth a split pomegranate studded with seeds of
pearl--she