. If Mr.
Gridley calls, show him into the parlor, no matter who is there."

Kitty Fagan looked amazingly intelligent, and promised that she would do
exactly as she was told. Myrtle followed her down stairs almost
immediately, and went into the parlor, where Mr. Bradshaw was waiting.

Never in his calmest moments had he worn a more insinuating smile on his
features than that with which he now greeted Myrtle. So gentle, so
gracious, so full of trust, such a completely natural expression of a
kind, genial character did it seem, that to any but an expert it would
have appeared impossible that such an effect could be produced by the
skilful balancing of half a dozen pairs of little muscles that manage
the lips and the corners of the mouth. The tones of his voice were
subdued into accord with the look of his features; his whole manner was
fascinating, as far as any conscious effort could make it so. It was
just one of those artificially pleasing effects that so often pass with
such as have little experience of life for the genuine expression of
character and feeling. But Myrtle had learned the look that shapes
itself on the features of one who loves with a love that seeketh not its
own, and she knew the difference between acting and reality. She met his
insinuating approach with a courtesy so carefully ordered that it was of
itself a sentence without appeal. Artful persons often interpret sincere
ones by their own standard. Murray Bradshaw thought little of this
somewhat formal address,--a few minutes would break this thin film to
pieces. He was not only a suitor with a prize to gain, he was a
colloquial artist about to employ all the resources of his specialty.

He introduced the conversation in the most natural and easy way, by
giving her the message from a former schoolmate to which he had
referred, coloring it so delicately, as he delivered it, that it became
an innocent-looking flattery. Myrtle found herself in a rose-colored
atmosphere, not from Murray Bradshaw's admiration, as it seemed, but
only reflected by his mind from another source. That was one of his
arts,--always, if possible, to associate himself incidentally, as it
appeared, and unavoidably, with an agreeable impression.

So Myrtle was betrayed into smiling and being pleased before he had said
a word about himself or his affairs. Then he told her of the adventures
and labors of his late expedition; of certain evidence which at the very
last moment he had