Mr. Tressalia closed his book at last, and a look of satisfaction stole into his eye as he marked her look of interest, and the faint tinge of color that for the first time he saw in her cheek. He drew from his pocket a silver fruit-knife, and, reaching for a tiny basket that he had brought with him, but had kept tantalizingly covered all the time, he exposed to view two of the largest and most luscious peaches imaginable. “Now, when you have eaten one of these as an appetizer, we will return for our dinner,” he said, with a smile, as he deftly extracted the stone from the crimson and yellow fruit, and, placing the two halves on a large grape-leaf, laid it in her lap. “It is too beautiful to eat,” Editha said, viewing it with admiring eyes; but she disposed of it with evident relish, nevertheless. The other was prepared in the same way, and ready for her as the last mouthful disappeared, but she demurred. “You have not had your share,” she said, smiling. “You are my patient, remember, and I shall prescribe for you as I judge best; but if you feel very sensitive about it, I will share with you this time;” and, while he ate one-half, he watched the other disappear with intense satisfaction. Editha could not fail to improve if her appetite could be coaxed back in this way. They arose to return to their hotel, and, as they left their cozy retreat, they saw approaching them a lady leaning upon the arm of a gentleman. They were both distinguished looking, and instantly attracted the attention of Editha and her attendant. As they drew nearer, Mr. Tressalia started and uttered a low exclamation; the next instant he smiled, lifted his hat with a low bow, and, returning his salutation, they passed on. Mr. Tressalia would have stopped and greeted them, but he knew how shy Editha was of strangers in her weak state, and he did not deem it best. Editha, in her one passing glance, had instantly been attracted by the tall, queenly woman, who might perhaps have been about forty-two or three years of age. Her face was fair, and sweet, and beautiful as a picture, and was surrounded by soft, waving chestnut hair. Her eyes were large and blue, but rather mournful in expression, while there was a grieved droop about the full, handsome mouth. Her companion was a middle-aged gentleman, though somewhat older than the lady, and, from their resemblance to each other, Editha judged them to be brother and sister. “There goes a woman with a history, and a sad one, too,” Mr. Tressalia remarked, when they were beyond hearing. Editha sighed and wondered how many women there were in the world who had sad histories, but she only said: “They are acquaintances of yours, then?”