blazed upon the hearth. A small round stand was set
forth, upon which was placed my solitary repast. I seated myself and
partook, with a relish, of the nice cakes, fragrant coffee, and sweet
clover butter.

Having finished my meal, I arose and walked to one of the deep-set
windows which lighted the apartment. Lifting the curtain, I looked out.

A grassy lawn overhung with trees; clear gravel paths and well-trimmed
shrubbery; beyond, rocks relieved by a patch of blue sky; a thin line of
light, neutral tinted, winding through the distant meadows, indicating a
streamlet; these constituted the landscape.

Having spent a full quarter of an hour in abstractedly gazing at this
scene, I was called to reality by the opening of the room door, and a
strange voice repeating my name. The person presenting herself appeared
to be an upper servant--a tall, thin woman, with dark hair sprinkled with
gray, and an amiable, weak face.

"If you have finished your breakfast, Miss, I will show you to Mr.
Bristed's room."

I assured her it was completed, and, following her. I crossed the hall
and entered a door at the left. A pleasant odor of flowers met my
grateful senses. The room was spacious, wide and deep, and handsomely
carpeted. The walls were ornamented with paintings and engravings.

An ample arm-chair, which the owner had evidently just vacated, and a
table containing books and papers, gave a tone of both comfort and
elegance to the room, which was decidedly congenial to my taste.

Two great glass doors, reflecting clearly the morning sunbeams, led into
a conservatory from whence issued the fragrance I perceived on entering.

Among the flowers moved a tall, manly figure. As I entered, the gentleman
came forward.

"Miss Reef, Mr. Bristed," said my companion, by way of introduction.

So this was my employer. As he stood before me, I surveyed him; a
well-formed gentleman, above the ordinary height, with pale complexion,
set off by dark, penetrative eyes; a shapely head covered with long,
heavy masses of straight dark hair. The impression his appearance
conveyed to me was that of a person benevolent but apathetic; unhappy
without the will or power to shake off his burden.

He bade me be seated. "You are young," said he, reflectively. "May I ask
your age?"

"Seventeen," I replied.

"Very young," he reiterated, thoughtfully shaking his head; "however, as
you are here, if you wish to remain, Mary will introduce you to your
p