askance at his companion with unchristian impatience. The long- legged, red-haired poet was decidedly in his way at the present moment,--he would rather have been alone. He determined in any case not to ask him to enter the rectory garden,--more of his society would be intolerable,--they would part at the gate,-- "I'm afraid I'm boring you, Mr. Walden,"--said the unconscious object of his musings, just then--" I am dull! I feel myself under a cloud. Pray excuse it!" The expression of his face was comically lachrymose, and John felt a touch of compunction at the nature of his own immediate mental attitude towards the harmless 'moon-calf.' "Don't apologise!" he said, with a frank smile--"I myself am not in a companionable humour. I think Miss Bourne's music has not only put something into us, but taken something out of us as well." "You are right!" said Julian--"You are perfectly right. And you express the emotion aptly. It was extraordinary music! But that voice! That voice will be a wonder of the world!" "It is a wonder already"--rejoined Walden--"If the girl keeps her health and does not break down from nervous excitement and overstrain, she will have a dazzling career. I think Miss Vancourt will take every possible care of her." "Miss Vancourt is very lovely,"--said Adderley reflectively, "I have made up my mind on that point at last. When I first saw her, I was not convinced. Her features are imperfect. But they are mobile and expressive--and in the expression there is a subtle beauty which is quite provocative. Then again, my own 'ideals' of women have always been tall and queenly,--yet in Miss Vanconrt we have a woman who is queenly without being tall. It is the regal air without the material inches. And I am now satisfied that the former is more fascinating than the latter. Though I admit that it was once my dream to die upon the breast of a tall woman!" Walden. laughed forcedly. He was vexed to be compelled to listen to Adderley's criticism of Maryllia Vancourt's physical charms, yet he was powerless to offer any remonstrance. "But, after all," continued Julian, gazing up into the pink and mauve clouds of the kindling sunset,--"The tall woman might possibly, from the very coldness of her height, be unsympathetic. She might be unclaspable. Juno seems even more repellent than Venus or Psyche. Then again, there are so many large women. They are common. They obstruct the public highway. They tower forth in theatre-stalls, and nod jewelled tiaras from the elevation of opera- boxes, blocking out the view of the stage. They are more often assertive than lovable. Therefore let me not cling to an illusion which will not bear analysis. For Miss Vancourt is not a tall woman,--nor for that matter is she short,--she is indescribable, and therefore entirely bewitching!" John said nothing, but only walked on a trifle more quickly.