"But if you will be happier, Dora; if you are not contented here-It
is a humdrum sort of life, I know."

"Oh, no! not that; but I want to be doing something. I mean
something almost more than I can do, not ever so much less. I like
to feel as if I must use every bit of strength and courage I have,
and then I always find more than I thought I had."

Mr. Burroughs looked sharply at the young girl who made this
ungirlish avowal. Was this utter simplicity? or was it an ingenious
affectation? Was Dora Darling one of the noblest, or one of the most
crafty, of womankind?

Tom Burroughs was a man of the world and of society, and flattered
himself that neither man nor woman had art deeper than his
penetration; but as he rapidly scanned the broad brow, clear,
level-glancing eyes, firm, sweet mouth, queenly head, and mien of
innocent self-confidence, he asked himself again,--

"Is it the perfection of art, or can it be the perfection of
nature?"

But Karl was saying rather gloomily,--

"And what is to become of us, Dora?"

"Kitty and you?" asked Dora, open-eyed. "Why, of course, you are to
come too! Did you suppose I wanted to leave you? Of course, it is
your home and mine, just as this house has been: we are all one