spirituelle face, she became in his eyes a model of beauty. The
allusion to the death of her father had recalled to his mind the
time and manner of his own father's death--a time when the terrible
plague of yellow fever had swept over the Queen City with
devastating wing. Observing George Marshall's silent, absorbed
manner, Lizzie continued:

"You think me very uninteresting, I dare say. Young ladies who do
not dance are generally so considered. Allow me to present you to
some of my friends who will--"

"I beg pardon, Miss Heartwell, for my inattention. I was thinking of
the past--the past recalled by your own story. Excuse my abstraction,
I pray."

"But the young ladies?" said Lizzie.

"I do not care to dance now, if you will allow me the pleasure of a
promenade," he replied.

"Certainly I will," replied Lizzie with a graceful bend of the
shapely head; and clasping with her timid little hand the strong arm
of the manly cadet, she passed with him from the lower drawing-room
across the hall to the library.

"There's more room in the corridor than here," said Lizzie; "suppose
we go there?"

"First let me ask a question, suggested by the musical instrument I
see standing in the library. Do you sing? Do you sing with the