"Your argument is singular, yet almost conclusive," said Catherine, with a pleasant accent, yet with a more distant air. "And so you are no poor painter--a wandering son of genius--after all; but a knight of romance, roaming the world over, with palette for buckler, and brush and maul-stick in lieu of lance and sword? Really, you have lost much by the transformation: it was a great pleasure to me, to think I could patronise you--encourage an unfriended genius. But now--ah! my folly offends you! I beg your pardon; I will trifle no more." "I am not offended, Miss Loring," said the youth, who had coloured deeply while she spoke; "but I _did_ think your tone satirical, and indicative of a suspicion that I was not what I profess myself to be. Suffer me then to be a poor painter, as I really am; though not a man in very restricted pecuniary circumstances. I confess, that I was presumptuous, to think you--that is, your father,--would accept any gift at my hands; yet the persuasion that I had it in my power to give you--that is, _him_, a particular gratification, emboldened me to think I might presume to attempt what I thought a mere simple, allowable compliment." "Pray, Mr. Hunter," said Catherine, "say nothing more about it. I believe you are right, and I wrong. We act here"--and here she smiled as merrily as before--"entirely upon impulses and instincts; and if impulses and instincts be conformable, as doubtless, some day, they will, we will accept the picture as freely as it is offered. But I see you are impatient to go;"--this was a discovery authorized by no particular symptom of dissatisfaction on the part of the painter, who, on the contrary, seemed well pleased to continue the tête-à-tête;--"you are impatient to go, and here comes Phoebe.--Phoebe, my dear, have the goodness to call Richard, to attend Mr. Hunter to Mrs. Bell's.--I am glad to see you walk so firmly, and look so well.--I will positively be your escort to the gate. It becomes me in my function of Lieutenant-commandant; and I will dismiss you with all the honours of war." Thus speaking, and whiling away the walk with light and joyous conversation, Miss Loring conducted the guest to the park gate; where her eye suddenly caught sight of a little bush, of no great beauty of appearance, but exhaling an agreeable odour. This she instantly began to rob of its branches, expressing pleasure at the discovery.