done?"

"Oh yes, but I have done not much. I am slow," said the girl, as Nigel
rose and looked over her shoulder.

"Why!--what--how beautiful!--but--but--what do you mean?" exclaimed the
youth.

"I don't understand you," said the girl, looking up in surprise.

"Why, Kathy, I had supposed you were drawing that magnificent landscape
all this time, and--and you've only been drawing a group of shells.
Splendidly done, I admit, but why----"

He stopped at that moment, for her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"Forgive me, dear child," said Nigel, hurriedly; "I did not intend to
hurt your feelings. I was only surprised at your preference."

"You have not hurt me," returned Kathy in a low voice, as she resumed
her work, "but what you say calls back to me--my father was very fond of
shells."

She stopped, and Nigel, blaming himself for having inadvertently touched
some tender chord, hastened, somewhat clumsily, to change the subject.

"You draw landscape also, I doubt not?"

"Oh yes--plenty. If you come home to me to-night, I will show you some."