on the hotel veranda that summer
day, was surprised and dismayed at the change, the almost distressing
change, that had come upon the girl meantime. At first he took it for
granted that it was the coarsening effect of studying for the stage,
but very shortly he had decided otherwise. Whatever his skill in
reproduction, Charles Graham had the eye, the mind, and the heart of
the portrait-painter; and now he read the little actress's behavior
with a good measure of precision. Her restlessness, her chattering,
the high, unpleasing pitch of her naturally lovely low voice, her
assumption of the manner and speech of the blase young person of the
stage, he saw to be primarily the cover of nervousness. He understood
that the girl was troubled about something, was perhaps suffering, and
tried to conceal it in this way. Moreover, he felt that, whatever it
was, she was bearing it altogether alone, hiding it from everybody.

So far, so good. But presently he jumped to a false conclusion. As he
referred casually to Miss Pritchard as an _inveterate_ optimist,
suddenly all the color died out of the girl's face, the shadow in her
eyes became momentarily genuine distress, and the bravado dropped from
her manner. It struck him that there was some misunderstanding between
his friend and her young cousin. And the pain this realization brought
him was curiously acute.

"But, my dear child," he exclaimed earnestly, "hers is no cheap
optimism. Miss Pritchard's wise, sane outlook upon life is the
courageous, positive optimism of the seasoned soldier. She has known
hardship and suffering, and it is victory over them that makes her
serenity and strength so impressive."

As the artist paused, he glanced with searching kindness at the girl
who was such a mere child, after all. But he seemed to feel a touch of
hardness or of obstinacy in the way she set her lips. He couldn't bear
the idea of her misunderstanding Miss Pritchard.

"I wonder, Miss Marley, if you ever heard about Miss Pritchard's
love-story?" he asked rather hesitatingly. "It all happened of course
before you were born; but your family may have spoken of it to you?"

Elsie raised her eyes quickly, regardless of the fact that there were
tears in them.

"Oh, no, Mr. Graham, I never knew--anything about it," she almost
gasped.

"Then I believe I will tell you," he said gravely. "If ever you
should--well, it makes one understand why Miss Pritchard so impresses
even a