y literary pander, of either sex,
could possess for me, a student--even if a mistaken one--of science?"

"I did not think the book would possess the slightest interest for you,
and I suppose you are already aware of that?"

"Ah no! My telepathic power is reserved for more serious purposes. Its
exercise costs me too much to expend it on trifles. In consequence I do
not know why you mentioned the book."

To this I answered candidly, "I mentioned it in order to get myself out
of a conversational difficulty--without much success."

Natalie was reserved with me at first. She devoted herself unnecessarily
to a boy named Halley who was staying with them. Grey had gone to
London. His place was taken by a Mr. Rockingham, whom I did not like.
There was something sinister in his expression, and he rarely spoke save
to say something cynical, and in consequence disagreeable. He had "seen
life," that is, everything deleterious to and destructive of it. His
connection with Brande was clearly a rebound, the rebound of disgust.
There was nothing creditable to him in that. My first impression of him
was thus unfavourable. My last recollection of him is a fitting item in
the nightmare which contains it.

The youth Halley would have interested me under ordinary circumstances.
His face was as handsome and refined as that of a pretty girl. His
figure, too, was slight and his voice effeminate. But there my own
advantage, as I deemed it, over him ceased. Intellectually, he was a
pupil of Brande's who did his master credit. Having made this discovery
I did not pursue it. My mind was fixed too fast upon a definite issue to
be more than temporarily interested in the epigrams of a peachy-cheeked
man of science.

The afternoon was well advanced before I had an opportunity of speaking
to Natalie. When it came, I did not stop to puzzle over a choice of
phrases.

"I wish to speak to you alone on a subject of extreme importance to me,"
I said hurriedly. "Will you come with me to the sea-shore? Your time, I
know, is fully occupied. I would not ask this if my happiness did not
depend upon it."

The philosopher looked on me with grave, kind eyes. But the woman's
heart within her sent the red blood flaming to her cheeks. It was then
given to me to fathom the lowest depth of boorish stupidity I had ever
sounded.

"I don't mean that," I cried, "I would not dare--"

The blush on her cheek burnt deeper as she tossed her head proudly back,
and said