orld, and regarded her sympathizing sisters through a grate of
superior knowledge and unsharable grief. Like a devout nun, she
worshipped "St. Philip," and firmly believed in his miraculous powers.
She fancied that her woes set her apart from common cares, and slowly
fell into a dreamy state, professing no interest in any mundane matter,
but the art that first attracted Philip. Crayons, bread-crusts, and
gray paper became glorified in Laura's eyes; and her one pleasure was
to sit pale and still before her easel, day after day, filling her
portfolios with the faces he had once admired. Her sisters observed
that every Bacchus, Piping Faun, or Dying Gladiator bore some likeness
to a comely countenance that heathen god or hero never owned; and
seeing this, they privately rejoiced that she had found such solace for
her grief.

Mrs. Lord's keen eye had read a certain newly written page in her son's
heart,--his first chapter of that romance, begun in paradise, whose
interest never flags, whose beauty never fades, whose end can never
come till Love lies dead. With womanly skill she divined the secret,
with motherly discretion she counselled patience, and her son accepted
her advice, feeling that, like many a healthful herb, its worth lay in
its bitterness.

"Love like a man, John, not like a boy, and learn to know yourself
before you take a woman's happiness into your keeping. You and Nan
have known each other all your lives; yet, till this last visit, you
never thought you loved her more than any other childish friend. It is
too soon to say the words so often spoken hastily,--so hard to be
recalled. Go back to your work, dear, for another year; think of Nan in
the light of this new hope: compare her with comelier, gayer girls; and
by absence prove the truth of your belief. Then, if distance only
makes her dearer, if time only strengthens your affection, and no doubt
of your own worthiness disturbs you, come back and offer her what any
woman should be glad to take,--my boy's true heart."

John smiled at the motherly pride of her words, but answered with a
wistful look.

"It seems very long to wait, mother. If I could just ask her for a
word of hope, I could be very patient then."

"Ah, my dear, better bear one year of impatience now than a lifetime of
regret hereafter. Nan is happy; why disturb her by a word which will
bring the tender cares and troubles that come soon enough to such
conscientious creatures as hersel