"Because I told her so many things about the sort of people she will see, and how to know what is beautiful in people who are not wise. She promised to come and live with me when I have been to Italy, and become a singer; but till then, I shall, perhaps, never meet her, for our ways are not the same. She looked with her clear eyes right through me, to see if I was grave; and if she only finds her art is fair, I shall not be afraid for her." "But is she not ill? I never saw anybody look so strange." "That is because her hair is shorter. You do not like her, Master Auchester?" I shook my shoulders. "No; not a great deal." "You will try, please. She will be an artist." "But don't you consider,--of course I don't know,--but don't you consider dancing the lowest art?" "Oh, Master Auchester! all the arts help each other, and are all in themselves so pure that we cannot say one is purer than the other. Besides, was it not in the dream of that Jew, in the Bible, that the angels descended as well as ascended?" "You are like Martin Luther." "Why so?" "Clo--that is my clever sister--told me what he said about the arts and religion." "Oh, Mr. Davy tells that story." "Miss Benette, you are very naughty! You seem to know everything that everybody says." "No; it is because I see so few people that I remember all they say." "Are you not at _all_ fonder of music than of dancing? Oh, Miss Benette!" She laughed heartily, showing one or two of her twinkling teeth. "I am fonder of music than of anything that lives or is, or rather I am not fond of it at all; but it is my life, though I am only a young child in that life at present. But I am rather fond of dancing, I must confess." "I think it is charming; and I can dance very well, particularly on the top of a wall. But I do not care about it, you know." "You mean, it is not enough for you to make you either glad or sorry. But be thankful that it is enough for some people." "All things make me glad, and sorry too, I think, going away now. When I come back--" "I shall be gone," said Clara. "I shall be a man--" "And I an old woman--" "For shame, Miss Benette! you will never grow old, I believe." "Oh, yes, I shall; but I do not mind, it will be like a summer to grow old." "I am sure it will!" I cried, with an enthusiasm that seemed to surprise her, so unconscious was she ever of any effect she had. "But I shall grow old too; and there is not so very much difference between us. So then I shall seem your age; and, Miss Benette, when I do grow up, will you be my friend?" "Always, Master Auchester, if you still wish it. And in my heart I do believe that friends are friends forever." The sweet smile she gave me, the sweeter words she spoke, were sufficient to assure me I should not be forgotten; and it was all I wished, for then my heart was fixed upon my future. "But you will not be going to-morrow, I suppose?" "No, I wish I were." "So do I."