time before."

"It wasn't fair in you, to lead me on in the dark."

"Oh, there wasn't any 'dark,' I assure you. Your words were
coruscations. Never was the old journal so lighted up before."

There were both perplexity and annoyance in her face as she looked
dubiously at me. Instantly becoming grave, I stepped to her side and
took her hand, as I said, with the strongest emphasis:

"Miss Warren, I thank you. I have caught a glimpse of my work and
calling through the eyes of a true, refined, and, permit me to add, a
gifted woman. I think I shall be the better for it, but will make no
professions. If I'm capable of improvement this column will show it."

Her hand trembled in mine as she looked away and said:

"You are capable of sympathy."

Then she went hastily to the piano.

Before she could play beyond a bar or two, little Zillah bounded in,
exclaiming:

"Emily Warren, mother asks if thee and Richard Morton will come out to
tea?"

"I may be in error, but is not a piano one of the worldly vanities?" I
asked, as she turned to comply. "I did not expect to see one here."