Transcriber’s note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. [Illustration] IDA NICOLARI BY EGLANTON THORNE AUTHOR OF “THE OLD WORCESTER JUG,” “IT’S ALL REAL TRUE,” “IN LONDON FIELDS,” “THE TWO CROWNS,” ETC. THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY 56 PATERNOSTER ROW, 65 ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD AND 164 PICCADILLY PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE LONDON CONTENTS. [Illustration] CHAPTER I. PSYCHE II. HER MOTHER’S FRIEND III. THE SCULPTOR’S PUPIL IV. GERALDINE SEABROOK V. A SORE DREAD VI. VISITORS TO THE STUDIO VII. IDA BEGINS TO KNOW HERSELF VIII. A VISIT FROM THEODORE TREGONING IX. TREGONING’S “HOBBY” X. ANXIETY XI. BLIND! XII. PATIENT ENDURANCE XIII. AT ST. ANGELA’S XIV. AN ALARMING SUGGESTION XV. BETROTHED XVI. THE GOOD SHEPHERD XVII. AN EVENING AT MRS. ORMISTON’S XVIII. WOUNDED XIX. THEODORE TREGONING IN TROUBLE XX. THE WEDDING DAY DRAWS NEAR XXI. ANTONIO GOES AWAY TO FULFIL HIS DESTINY XXII. FATHERLESS XXIII. IDA SHOWS HERSELF A TRUE FRIEND XXIV. A MEETING AND A PARTING XXV. A CANCELLED DEBT IDA NICOLARI. [Illustration] CHAPTER I. PSYCHE. “THERE, child, you are free. The light is going too rapidly for me to attempt more this afternoon. How is it that the days seem to get shorter, although we are long past the shortest?” The speaker was Antonio Nicolari, a sculptor who had won a high place in the world of art. That his fame had not been won without long-continued pains, his grizzled locks and worn, furrowed face revealed. His best years had been spent in toil apparently fruitless, uncheered by success or animated by much hope, stimulated only by the intense devotion to his art which distinguishes the master-spirit. He was standing now in his studio, at the back of his roomy old house in Chelsea, gazing with earnest, loving gaze on the clay image he was loth to leave, yet dared not risk spoiling. But he was not so rapt in contemplation of his work as to be heedless of a soft sigh breathed forth at his elbow. His look and voice grew tender as he turned to his daughter with the inquiry: “Have I tired you, Ida?” “No, father, I am not tired,” the girl replied in a clear, sweet voice, as she moved from the spot where she had been standing posed as her father’s model for the statue of Psyche he had in hand.