"She will learn better;" she replied. "She is just from her books, and rather eccentric in some of her ways and notions. I rally her daily upon her little oddities, but she is wilful, as spoiled children will be,--and being older, and more clever than myself, out-argues me. The main point of disagreement is that she is fond of liberty of speech and action, declares Die Vernon her beau ideal of a woman, and I am prudish in my reserve." "Not prudish--feminine!" he answered, emphatically. "Is she a relative?" "No: a ward of my father's." "An orphan!" with a remorseful pity, for which Josephine could have blasted Ida as she sat. "She does not feel her situation so keenly as a sensitive person would. Those are happiest whose wounds heal soonest,--to whom a life-time grief is unknown. I am thankful that Ida's temperament is mercurial--she is spared much suffering;" and her voice trembled admirably, as she lifted her eyes to a portrait above the mantel. Another adroit hit! the base brought out the ring of the genuine metal. "There are, indeed, losses, which, in an earthly sense, are irreparable, and although I know nothing personally of such a bereavement, I can understand that the shadow of a mother's tomb grows darker and longer, as the child walks on in the path her care would have smoothed." "Especially to an orphaned girl; each day has wants and exigencies she had not thought of before. Yet who knows the pains of her lot?" said Josephine, sighing. "'Few are the hearts whence one same touch, Bids the sweet fountains flow!'" repeated Mr. Lacy. "Have you learned that song, according to promise?" "I always keep my promises." "May I demand the proof that this one was remembered." The piece in question lay suspiciously near the top of the portfolio, although she protested that she had "only played it over once, and a fortnight ago." "It is set as a duett; will not your friend sing with you?" "I don't know;" shaking her head, smilingly. "She is chary of her favors--all good singers are. Perhaps she will not refuse you--ask her, please! It will be such an improvement!" Thus importuned, Mr. Lacy went up to Ida, and preferred his request. "Excuse me, sir, I am not familiar with the music;" said she, surprised that Josephine had despatched him upon such an embassy, when her jealousy of Ida's superiority as a vocalist, had been the cause of innumerable slights and petty meannesses from herself and father. "Now! be obliging, Ida!" she interposed, "you sing at sight better than I do, after a year's practising." "I am sorry to appear disobliging, Mr. Lacy;" pursued Ida; and she spoke sincerely, as she met his smile; "but you would not thank me for ruining your song." "Oh! how can you say so!" exclaimed Josephine. "Mr. Dermott called you a second Malibran; or was it Sappho?"