They were talking together on an interesting subject, and as the conversation went on, a flush crept into the cheeks of the elder woman, her eyes grew brighter, and her lips parted in a faint smile. The vitality diffused by Meg stirred the blood in her veins, and quickened the wan life to a semblance of health. So might Eurydice have regained health and life and sprightliness with every step she took from the kingdom of the dead. CHAPTER XII. THE PORTRAIT IN THE GALLERY. "So I gave him one of the rabbits," said Meg, concluding a long story of which Dan was the hero, "and he took it to his camp." "As a matter of fact, you provided his dinner," observed Miss Linisfarne, languidly. So far she had not taken much interest in the story. "I suppose so. Dan said he was fond of stewed rabbit." "No doubt. All gipsies are." "But Dan is not a gipsy!" said the girl, laughing. "He tries to be one, but fails. He is a gentleman." "My poor child, you must be making a mistake," replied the elder lady, in a pitying tone. "Gentlemen do not travel in caravans, or take rabbits from unknown young women." "This one does, Miss Linisfarne. I am sure I am right. Dan is a gentleman, and a very handsome one too." "Handsome!" echoed Miss Linisfarne, with a flush. "You did not tell me that, Meg. Describe his looks." "He is tall, with brown hair and moustache. His eyes are of a dark grey, and laugh with his lips. He is," said Meg, concluding this feminine description with a feminine epithet such as is to be found in the novels of the gentle sex--"he is a Greek god." "A most attractive person, according to your description. Are you sure your enthusiasm does not carry you away? For all I know, he may not be a bit better-looking than Parson Jarner. He also is a Greek god, though more like Silenus than Apollo." "Parson Jarner!" echoed Meg, in a tone of ineffable contempt. "Why, he is as old as old can be, and as red in the face and white in the hair as anything! Dan is really good-looking, like--like--oh," she cried, breaking off suddenly with a twinkle in her eyes, "I know who he is like." "What is the matter, child?" "Would you care to see Dan?" Miss Linisfarne shrank back on her couch with a quick sigh, and covered her face with her hands. "No! no!" she said in a low whisper; "how can you ask such a thing, child? I have seen no one but Mr. Jarner for years and years. I am dead--I am buried--I am forgotten. Do not bring a stranger to my sepulchre. Even this common wanderer must not see me as the wreck I am." Bather startled by this outburst, which she was far from expecting, Meg arose to her feet and bent over the couch with a pretty expression of penitence in her eyes. Gently she removed the hands hiding the face of her hostess. "You do not understand--you do not understand! It is not Dan himself I would show you, but his portrait." "His portrait!" repeated Miss Linisfarne, in blank astonishment. "Are you out of your mind, Meg?"