"'The Last Rose of Summer,'" prompted Charley; "afterwards, the 'Captive Knight.'" Mr. Lacy laughed; supposing he intended a satire upon the "miscellaneous" songsters, he had also thought of, when he objected to making a selection; and Ida, slightly piqued at his want of confidence in her powers of vocalization, sang both with inimitable skill and expression. The gentlemen pressed around to ask, each, for his favorite song. She complied readily and patiently. The natural compass and strength of her voice had been increased by diligent practice, yet music was with her, more a passion than an art; her songs, spirit-utterances instead of the compositions of others, learned by rote. "She is actually beautiful!" said Mr. Dana, aside to his brother. "Something above the order of puppets, nicknamed young ladies, with which people ornament their parlors now-a-days," was the reply. Removed from the gnome-like regards of Josephine, she was, indeed, a different being. The presence of this girl was a mental extinguisher--smothering the flame of feeling in fetid smoke--the kindliness of the Danas, the generous oil feeding the exhausted lamp. Years afterwards, when the purple flush had faded from life's morning, the scene preceding her departure upon this evening, would recur, as one of the proudest and happiest moments of her existence--John Dana, standing in front of her, his grave features relaxed into a smile of fatherly fondness, as he heard her defence of herself against an accusation of Mr. Thornton's--Mrs. Dana, her hand upon her husband's shoulder, listening and enjoying--Charley and Lynn, her allies and counsellors, waiting to add their testimony--Mr. Lacy sitting beside her, and drinking in her words with an avidity that brought the blood tingling to her cheeks, and excited the meaning smiles of the spectators. She was in her proper sphere; the centre and idol of a home-circle. The praises lavished upon her were honestly won--too much would have satiated, not spoiled--the utter absence of reward soured her. "I have had a happy, happy day, dear Mrs. Dana!" whispered she, at going. "I shall write to Carry to-morrow, to apprise her how well you fill her place."