“I’ll do it if I can.” She shortly determined; and sitting down, penned a note, folded, and directed it to box 333 P. O. Then calling her brother Willful, she dispatched him with it to its destination. The next morning she received an answer, written in a bold, business-like hand, requesting her to present herself at private parlor, number 3, house number 10 Blank-street, and signed _S. Copsewood_. “This looks as if Mr. Copsewood wanted to take the house,” said Barbara, who lost no time in obeying the summons. When she reached number 10, which she found to be an elegant private boarding house, she inquired for room number 3, and was at once shown up into a superbly furnished private parlor, at the door of which she was received by a rosy-cheeked waiting maid, who civilly inquired her name and business, and having ascertained that she was the person whom they were expecting, ushered her immediately into the presence of the loveliest lady Barbara thought she had ever seen. This beautiful, dark woman was clothed in deep mourning, which, however, could not disguise the exquisite proportions of her graceful form. Her complexion of the purest, palest olive, was contrasted with jet-black, slender-arched eyebrows, long drooping, black eyelashes, that effectually vailed the large languishing dark eyes, and a rich redundance of silken black ringlets that overshadowed the whole face, and lent even a deeper tone to the deep melancholy of its expression. Barbara Brande was spell-bound, fascinated, not more by the perfect beauty, than by the profound sorrow impressed upon this most lovely countenance. “This is a most beautiful _shadow_,” thought Barbara; “but where in the world have I seen a ray of _sunshine_ answering, feature by feature, to this exquisite shadow? Where have I seen it? My acquaintance is not so extensive but that I might soon recollect. Let me see! My conscience, yes, I recollect! It is my Star of the Sea! my Island Princess! My golden-haired Etoile! She it is who is the _morning_ to this dark lady’s _midnight_, the _sunshine_ to her _shadow_.” While these thoughts passed rapidly through the mind of Barbara Brande, the maid-servant presented her to the lady, saying: “Here, Madam, is the young woman who has come about leasing the house.” The lady lifted her languid lashes, and said, interrogatively— “Miss Brande?” “Yes, Madam,” said Barbara, thinking that she had never heard such liquid music break from human lips before. “Pray be seated, Miss Brande. Susan, draw that arm-chair forward.” Susan obeyed, and Barbara accepted the offered seat. “I received a note this morning from Mr. S. Copsewood, appointing me to call here at this hour to open possible negotiations respecting a house I have to lease. I happen to have a drawing of the house executed by my brother Willful, if Mr. Copsewood would like to see it,” said Barbara.