"There was nothing to tell, and you never asked me about my adventures." "This young gentleman is very ambitious," said Wilton, to change the subject. "He is designing to immortalize himself and the Six Hundred at once." "He will not have patience. I tell him that even the greatest genius must wait and work." She sighed as she spoke. "Besides, it is almost desecration for art to bestow itself on such a subject." "There!" cried the boy, passionately, "you always discourage me; you are cruel! Have I so much pleasure or hope that you should take this from me?" She rose from the seat she had taken and came to him, laying her hand on his shoulder with a wonderfully tender gesture. "I do not discourage you, _caro_! You have much ability, but you have scarcely fourteen years. Twenty years hence you will still be young, quite young enough to paint men tearing each other to pieces with immense success. Now, you must learn to walk before you can fly upon the wings of fame. Let us put this away." "No, you shall not. As to twenty years hence, do not talk of them to me!" The fierce, complaining tone passed from his voice, and he leaned back, raising his eyes to hers with a yearning, loving, sad expression that struck Wilton with strange jealousy. The boy was old for his years, and perhaps, unknown to himself, loved his gentle companion with more than brotherly love. The idea chafed him, and to banish it he spoke: "Why not make separate studies for your figures? It will practise your hand and make material for your picture. I will send you over the Russian views and figures I have; they will help you as to costume and scenery." There was a pause. Wilton was determined not to go away; and Donald, the fire gone from his eyes, his very figure limp, would not speak. At last, Miss Rivers, who was arranging a box of colors, said, "This gentleman--Colonel Wilton's suggestion is very good. Suppose you act upon it? And perhaps he will come again, and see how you go on." She looked at Colonel Wilton as she spoke, and he tried to make out whether she wished him to return, or to give him the opportunity of escape. Although not inclined to under-estimate himself, he came to the latter conclusion; but did not avail himself of it. "You have something more to show me, have you not!" he asked, kindly. "Yes; plenty much better," answered Ella Rivers for him; and, slipping away the fatal battle-scene, she replaced it with a portfolio full of sketches very unequal in merit. Ella quickly picked out the best, and Donald appeared to cheer up under the encouragement of Wilton's praise. "Show your sketch of 'Dandy,'" said the boy to Ella.--"She draws very well.--Bring your portfolio, Ella," he went on. "It is not necessary. You are keeping Colonel Wilton." "You are not, indeed. I rather fancy you wish to get rid of me, Miss Rivers." "Miss Rivers! Miss Rivers! How did you know her name?"