James was not in the house; he did not come home until some time after we had taken our tea--drank his alone in the dining-room--and joined our circle quite late in the evening. As he came in we were sitting about the fire. Lenore had gone, of her own inclination, to Miss Argyll's side, where she sat on a low stool, with her head against the lady's lap. She made a gay picture as she sat there, framed around with the black of Eleanor's garments. Her traveling-dress was of crimson merino, and her cheeks--what with the ride in the cold air, and the glow of the present fire, were almost as red as her dress; while her golden curls streamed in shining strands over the sable habiliments against which she rested. She was replying archly to some teasing remark of Mr. Argyll's, and I was thinking what a brightness she would give to the dull house, when James came forward, holding out his hand, with one of his pleasantest smiles, saying, "This is the little lady, is it, whom we have been so anxiously waiting to see? Can I be introduced, cousin Mary, or does not the Queen of fairies allow herself to make the acquaintance of ordinary mortals?" You have noticed, reader, how some little cloud, floating in the west at sunset, will be flushed through with rosy light, and how, instantly, while you gaze, it will turn gray, losing every particle of radiance. So the child changed when he approached and spoke to her. Her cheeks faded to a gray whiteness; her eyes were riveted on his, but she could not smile; she seemed to struggle with some inward repugnance and her sense of what courtesy demanded; finally she laid her little cold hand in his, without a word, suffered him to kiss her, and, clinging close to Eleanor, remained pale and quiet--her gayety and bloom were alike gone. Mr. Argyll could not rally her--she shrunk like a sensitive plant. "If that pallid, stupid little creature is the marvelous child Richard promised us, I must say, he has shown his usual good taste," commented James in an aside to Mary. He was not flattered by the reception he had met. "Something is the matter with her, James. She is wearied with her journey. I am afraid we are keeping her up too late. She was gay enough a little while since." "Are you tired? Would you wish to go to bed?" whispered Miss Argyll. "If you please," she replied, with an air of relief. "You are not getting homesick so soon?" asked Mr. Argyll. "I am not; I like it here very much," answered Lenore, candidly. "Something is the matter with me now, sir, and you must please excuse me. My head began to ache just now--so I suppose I had better go to bed." She bade us good-night with a smile so restrained that I felt afraid she was not going to enjoy her visit. Eleanor herself took her away to the maid who was to attend upon her, and did not return to us until her little guest was in bed.