"How did you obtain it?" I asked, hesitating to receive it. "I have earned it honestly, every penny," she replied. "Since we parted, I have become popular in America, and played `lead' in nearly all the great cities. During the years that have gone I have many, many times wondered what had become of you, for in your writings I read plainly how soured and embittered you had become." "And where is Oranmore?" "Dead. He contracted typhoid while we were playing in San Francisco, and it terminated fatally." "Ethel," I said gravely, taking her hand in mine, "you have fascinated Dick Carruthers, my friend; and you will treat him as you treated me." "No, no. I love him," she said in a fierce half-whisper, adding, "Keep secret the fact that we loved one another, and I swear before Heaven I will be true to him. If he marries me, he shall never have cause for regret--never!" "Suppose I told him? What would he think of you?" "You will not!" she cried, clinging to me. "You are too honourable for that. Promise to keep my secret!" "For the present I will preserve silence," I answered, my heart softening towards her. "But I cannot promise that I will never tell him." "I am going to sit to him as model," she said, after a brief silence. "What character do you think would best suit me?" "Well, I should suggest that of Circe--the woman who broke men's hearts," I replied, mischievously. "Excellent! I shall be able to assume that character well," she said, with a grim smile. "I will tell him." Spring came and went, but I saw very little of Dick. He had received a commission from one of the illustrated papers to make a series of sketches of scenery in Scotland, and consequently he was away a good deal. Whenever he paid flying visits to London, however, he always looked me up, but, strangely enough, never mentioned Ethel. Nevertheless, I ascertained that they frequently met. At the close of a blue summer's day, when the dreamy, golden haze wrapped the city in a mystic charm, I called at the studio, having heard that he had returned, and was settling down to work. When I entered, Dick was standing before his easel, pipe in mouth and crayon in hand, busily sketching; while on the raised "throne" before him sat Ethel, radiant and beautiful. A tender smile played about her lips. It seemed as though a happiness--full, complete, perfectly satisfying--had taken possession of her, and lifted her out of herself-- out of the world even. "Welcome, old fellow!" Dick cried, turning to shake hands with me. "Behold my Circe!" and he waved his hand in the direction of his model. "Ethel will not sit for any other subject. It hardly does her justice-- does it?" "It is a strange fancy of mine," she explained, when I had greeted her. "I'm sure the dress is very becoming--isn't it?" And she waved the goblet she was holding above her head.