"I am glad to see that you have so fully recovered, Miss Mayhew. You prove again that you possess good strong nerves." "Thank you," said the young lady, laconically, and with a sudden accession of color. "Mr. Van Berg," began Mrs. Mayhew with great animation, "I'm excessively thankful that you happened to be on the road, and that the stage overtook you this morning. It was so fortunate that I almost think it providential. How dreadful it would have been if Ida had been alone in such frightful peril! I cannot tell you also how delighted I am that my daughter behaved so beautifully. Indeed, I must confess that I am agreeably surprised, for Ida was never famous for her courage. Your own manner must have inspired confidence in her; and now that you have been so fortunately THROWN TOGETHER, I trust you may be better friends in the future." Miss Mayhew's rising color deepened into an intense scarlet, and, as she turned away to hide her confusion, she could not forbear shooting a wrathful glance at the artist. He had sufficient self-control not to change a muscle, or to appear in the slightest degree aware of the embarrassment caused by her mother's words, and especially the use of the phrase--grown to be most hateful from its associations--that so vividly recalled to the incensed maiden the anomalous position in which she found herself at the end of her perilous morning ride. "You ladies differ favorably from us men," said Van Berg, quietly. "You rise to meet an emergency by an innate quality of your sex, whereas, in our case, if our native strength is not equal to the occasion we fall below it as a matter of course." "Oh, that accounts for Ida's coming off with such flying colors--she rose to meet the emergency. I hope, however, she will EMBRACE no more such opportunities of showing her courage--why! Ida, what IS the matter? what have I said?" but the young lady, with face inflamed, vanished in the direction of her room. "Well, this IS strange," remarked the lady with a sharp glance of inquiry at the artist, who still managed to maintain an expression of lamb-like innocence. "I do believe the poor child is ill, and, now I think of it, she has not acted like herself for several days;" and she sought her daughter with hasty steps. But the young lady did not go to her room, being well aware that her mother would soon follow for the explanation which she could not give. Therefore, taking a side corridor, she joined some acquaintances on another piazza. Chapter XI. A "Tableau Vivant." "Miss Mayhew, will you please step here?" said a very fashionably dressed lady. Turning, Ida saw near her the mother of the child that had been rescued the previous day. She, with her husband, had been talking very earnestly to Mr. Burleigh, the proprietor of the house, who seemed in rather a dubious state of mind over some proposition of theirs.