Rosamond Leyton was pretty. It was a merry, sparkling, little face
which he looked upon, and though the nose did turn up a trifle, and
the mouth was rather wide, the soft, brown eyes, and exquisitely fair
complexion made ample amends for all. She was never intended for a
menial--she would make a beautiful woman--and with thoughts similar to
these, Mr. Browning, after completing his survey of her person, said--
"Have you been to school much?"

"Always, until I came here," was her answer; and he continued--"And
since then you have not looked in a book, I suppose?"

The brown eyes opened wide as Rosamond replied,--"Why, yes I have.
I've read over so much in your library when you were gone. Mrs. Peters
told me I might," she added, hastily, as she saw his look of surprise,
and mistook it for displeasure.

"I am perfectly willing," he said; "but what have you read? Tell me."

Rosamond was interested at once, and while her cheeks glowed and her
eyes sparkled, she replied--"Oh, I've read Shakespeare's Historical
Plays, every one of them--and Childe Harold, and Watts on the Mind,
and Kenilworth, and now I'm right in the middle of the Lady of the
Lake. Wasn't Fitz-James the King? _I_ believe he was. When I am older
I mean to write a book just like that."

Mr. Browning could not forbear a smile at her enthusiasm, but without
answering her question, he said,--"What do you intend to do until you
are old enough?"

Rosamond's countenance fell, and after tapping her foot upon the