"Bless me! that was a sigh! The sleeping waters then did show a dimple. Why, man, _you_ talk about love, with that smooth, shepherd's face of yours, that contented air, that smoothly sonorous voice! Corydon and Phyllis! You should be like a grand piano after Satter has thundered out all its chords, tremulous with harmonies verging so near to discord that pain would be mixed with pleasure in the divinest proportions." Greenleaf clapped his hands. "Bravo, Easelmann! you have mistaken your vocation; you should turn musical critic." "The arts are all akin," he replied, calmly refilling his pipe. "I think I can put together the various parts of your lecture for you," said Greenleaf. "You think I see Nature in her gentler moods, and reproduce only her placid features. You think I have feeling, though latent,--undeveloped. My nerves need a banging, just enough not to wholly unstring them. For that pleasant experience, I am to fall in love. The woman who has the nature to magnetize, overpower, transport me is Miss Marcia Sandford. I am, therefore, to make myself as uncomfortable as possible, in pursuit of a pleasure I know beforehand I can never obtain. Then, from the rather prosaic level of Scumble, I shall rise to the grand, gloomy, and melodramatic style of Salvator Rosa. _Voila tout!_ "An admirable summary. You have listened well. But tell me now,--what do _you_ think? Or do you wander like a little brook, without any will of your own, between such banks as Fate may hem you in withal?" "I will be frank with you. Until last season, I never had a serious, definite purpose in life. I fell in love then with the most charming of country-girls." "I know," interrupted Easelmann, in a denser cloud than usual,--"a village Lucy,--'a violet 'neath a mossy stone, fair as a star when only one,'--you know the rest of it. She was fair because there _was_ only one." "Silence, Mephistopheles! it is my turn; let me finish my story. I never told her my love"---- "'But let concealment'"---- "Attend to your pipe; it is going out. I did _look_, however. The language of the eyes needs no translation. I often walked, sketched, talked with the girl, and I felt that there was the completest sympathy between us. I knew her feelings towards me, as well, I am persuaded, as she knew mine. I gave her no pledge, no keepsake; I only managed, by an artifice, to get her daguerreotype at a travelling saloon." Easelmann laughed. "Let me see it, most modest of lovers!" "You sha'n't. Your evil eye shall not fall upon it After I came to Boston, I took a room and began working up my sketches"---- "Where I found you brushing away for dear life." "I meant to earn enough to go abroad, if it were only for one look at the great pictures of which I have so often dreamed. Then I meant to come back"---- "To find your Lucy married to a schoolmaster, and with five sickly children." "No,--she is but seventeen; she will not marry till I see her."