Miss Eliza glanced up at the cupid with a simpering smile, made a dash at the basket with her handkerchief, which set both that and the cupid in motion, and made another application to the table necessary; then scattering some books over it in picturesque confusion, she took a volume of Tennyson, laid it open, with the leaves downward, on the edge of the table, drew an easy-chair into position, and hurried into her bed-chamber. Miss Eliza never allowed any person to witness the mysteries of her toilet, so I cannot describe what took place in the inner room. But after a time she came forth, radiant, in a white merino dress, ruffled half a yard deep with convolutions of blue ribbons. Long streamers of the same color fell from the clustering bows on her shoulders, and another ribbon was drawn, snood fashion, through a mass of crimped hair lifted high from her temples, and floated off airily with a mass of curls that fell from the back of her head. Miss Eliza rang the bell, turned up her eyes with a devout look, which made the little cupid tremble on his wire, and sunk into her easy-chair, smiling upon the folds of her dress as they settled around her with statuesque effect. Then a new idea seized upon her. A gardiniere, full of plants, stood in one of the windows. In eager haste Miss Eliza gathered therefrom two or three sweet-scented geranium leaves, and a half-open rose; these she placed on her bosom, and returned to her seat beneath the cupid, and sat waiting with her hand upon the volume of Tennyson, and one foot pressed upon an ottoman, as if she had been sitting for a portrait. I am certain she heard that light footstep the moment it touched the stairs, thick as the carpet was, for a soft flutter of delight stirred her garments as if they had been the plumage of a bird; and starting suddenly, she stood a moment on the ottoman, flirting her handkerchief upward till the cupid went off in an ecstasy of motion, and seemed quite unable to contain itself. Then she settled down again, and cried out softly, “Come in,” when Savage knocked at the door. “Oh, Mr. Savage! how long you have been in coming,” she said, reaching forth her left hand with a motion which threw the sleeve back from an arm that had once been round and white, but keeping her seat all the time, not caring to destroy the effect of her position. “Indeed, you are too bad, I have quite thrilled myself with Tennyson waiting for you.” “I have but just got your summons, Miss Halstead,” said Savage. “Indeed! but there are moments in life when moments seem like ages.” “Oh! don’t talk of ages, Miss Halstead, it makes one feel so old!” Miss Eliza waved her head with a gentle smile, and looked upward, which assured her that the cupid was softly vibrating above her. “Ah, Mr. Savage! there ever will exist persons who cannot grow old!”