“I can fancy all that,” said she, in a low, soft voice. And then, stealing a look of half admiration at her visitor, she dropped her eyes again suddenly, with a slight show of confusion. “I assure you,” continued he, with warmth, “the season I brought out Cianchettoni, whenever he sang a little huskily I used to tell my friends I was suffering with a sore-throat.” “What a deal of sympathy it betrays in your nature!” said she, with a bewitching smile. “And talking of sore-throats, don't sit there in the draught, but take this chair, here.” And she pointed to one at her side. As Stocmar obeyed, he was struck by the beauty of her profile. It was singularly regular, and more youthful in expression than her full face. He was so conscious of having looked at her admiringly that he hastened to cover the awkwardness of the moment by plunging at once into the question of business. “Trover has informed me, madam,” began he, “as to the circumstances in which my very humble services can be made available to you. He tells me that you have a daughter--” “Not a daughter, sir,” interrupted she, in a low, confidential voice, “a niece,--the daughter of a sister now no more.” The agitation the words cost her increased Stocmar's confusion, as though he had evidently opened a subject of family affliction. Yes, her handkerchief was to her eyes, and her shoulders heaved convulsively. “Mr. Stocmar,” said she, with an effort which seemed to cost her deeply, “though we meet for the first time, I am no stranger to your character. I know your generosity, and your high sense of honor. I am well aware how persons of the highest station are accustomed to confide in your integrity, and in that secrecy which is the greatest test of integrity. I, a poor friendless woman, have no claim to prefer to your regard, except in the story of my misfortunes, and which, in compassion to myself, I will spare you. If, however, you are willing to befriend me on trust,--that is, on the faith that I am one not undeserving of your generosity, and entitled at some future day to justify my appeal to it,- -if, I say, you be ready and willing for this, say so, and relieve my intense anxiety; or if--” “Madam!” broke he in, warmly, “do not agitate yourself any more. I pledge myself to be your friend.” With a bound she started from her seat, and, seizing his hand, pressed it to her lips, and then, as though overcome by the boldness of the action, she covered her face and sobbed bitterly. If Stocmar muttered some unmeaning commonplaces of comfort and consolation, he was in reality far more engrossed by contemplating a foot and ankle of matchless beauty, and which, in a moment so unguarded, had become accidentally exposed to view.