floated in and sent away all visions of imagination. "My daughter," said
Mr. Stuart, and I looked up into the same dreamy eyes which had been
winning me in the picture. But these looked far beyond me, over me,
perhaps, or through me,--I could scarcely say which,--and the mouth
below them bent into a welcoming smile. While she greeted the other
guests, I had an opportunity to watch the stately grace of Mr. Stuart's
daughter, who played the part of hostess as one long accustomed to it.

"A queen!" I had exclaimed to myself, as she entered the room, "and my
Juno!"

The gentlemen to whom I had been introduced had been summoned earlier,
as in a learned committee, discussing the properties of the new
discovery. After the entrance of the ladies, I was requested to lead
Miss Stuart to dinner, and sat by her side through the clanging of
dishes and a similar clangor of the table-talk of tongues.

"Speaking of light," said the Professor, turning to me, "why cannot you
bring, by your unknown chemical ways, some real sunlight into our rooms,
in preference to this metallic gas-light?"

I turned to the windows, before which the servant had just drawn the
heavy, curtains still closer, to shut out the gleams of a glowing sunset
which had ventured to penetrate between its folds.

"I see your answer," said Miss Stuart. "You wonder, as I do, why a
little piece of artificial sunlight should astonish us so much more than
the cheap sunlight of every day which the children play in on
the Common."