"Helen, you witch, you darling sister," says Frank, kissing her, "I will do it--yes, to-morrow I will set forth, like Coelebs, in search of a wife! Now you must help me farther with your lively imagination; you must choose me a profession to masquerade under. I must, of course, for the attainment of my object, sport the character of a poor gentleman, struggling with honest poverty to gain a livelihood. Come, what shall I be--school-master--singing-master--drawing-master--or--" "O, the last, by all means!" interrupted Helen. "You will have such a fine opportunity of developing the tastes of your fair scholars--ha! ha! ha! Frank, methinks I already see thee helping some blushing milk-maid, with her pail, or, perhaps, leaning against a rail-fence, sketching her, as with bare feet and scanty skirt, she trips through the morning dew to feed her feathery brood." "Well, you may laugh as much as you please," replies Frank, nothing daunted, "I am firm in my determination." "And when, most romantic Coelebs, do you set forth?" "To-morrow, or next day at furthest. We will talk this over again in the morning, it is too late now--so good night, dear Helen, and pleasant dreams!" "Good night. Frank!" and gayly kissing her hand, Helen trips out of the room. Frank Leland laid his head upon his pillow within the walls of a large brick mansion, where the hum of city life penetrated, even through the thick plate-glass and rich window-hangings. But a miracle; no sooner did soft sleep seal his eye-lids, than he found himself in Arcadian scenes--shepherdesses tripped gracefully before him with their flocks; beautiful maidens led him through flowery fields and shady groves; and the little birds _up_ in the trees, and the little romantic fishes _down_ in the brooks, all sang of love and happiness. PART III.