scores
of other handsome houses that stretched for blocks up and down the
street with ever-recurrent brown-stone monotony. They were as much alike
as so many box-stalls in a stable.

"If I had to live in one of these," thought Keith, as he was making his
way to keep his appointment, "I should have to begin and count my house
from the corner. No wonder the people are all so much alike!"

Inside, however, the personal taste of the owner counted for much more,
and when Keith was admitted by the velvety-stepped servant, he found
himself in a scene of luxury for which nothing that Norman had said had
prepared him.

A hall, rather contracted, but sumptuous in its furnishings, opened on a
series of drawing-rooms absolutely splendid with gilt and satin. One
room, all gold and yellow, led into another all blue satin, and that
into one where the light filtered through soft-tinted shades on
tapestries and rugs of deep crimson.

Keith could not help thinking what a fortunate man Norman was, and the
difference between his friend's situation in this bower of roses, and
his own in his square, bare little box on the windy mountain-side,
insensibly flashed over him. This was "an establishment"! How unequally
Fortune scattered her gifts! Just then, with a soft rustle of silk, the
portieres were parted, and Mrs. Wentworth appeared. She paused for a
second just under the arch, and the young man wondered if she knew how
effective she was. She was a vision of lace and loveliness. A figure
straight and sinuous, above the middle height, which would have been
quite perfect but for being slightly too full, and which struck one
before one looked at the face; coloring that was rich to brilliance;
abundant, beautiful hair with a glint of lustre on it; deep hazel eyes,
the least bit too close together, and features that were good and only
just missed being fine Keith had remembered her as beautiful, but as
Mrs. Wentworth stood beneath the azure portieres, her long, bare arms
outstretched, her lips parted in a half-smile of welcome, she was much
more striking-looking than Keith's memory had recorded. As he gazed on
her, the expression on his face testified his admiration.

She came forward with the same gratified smile on her face and greeted
him with formal words of welcome as Norman's old friend. Her thought
was, "What a strong-looking man he is! Like a picture I have seen
somewhere. Why doesn't Ferdy like him?"

As she sank into a soft div