“I am not given to caresses as you know,” she afterwards explained in a somewhat apologetic tone to her husband; “and anything like an appeal for one on the part of a child or an inferior, I detest; but her simple way of holding out her hand disarmed me, and then such a face demands a certain amount of homage, does it not?” And her husband in his surprise, was forced to acknowledge to himself, that as closely as he had studied his wife’s nature for ten years, there were certain crooks and turns in it which even he had never penetrated. “You look dazzled,” that lady exclaimed, gazing not unkindly into the young girl’s face; “the sudden glare of so much gas-light has bewildered you.” “I do not think it is that,” returned Paula with a frank and admiring look at the gorgeous room and the circle of pleasant faces about her. “Sudden lights I can bear, but I have come from a little cottage on the hillside and the magnificence of nature does not prepare you for the first sudden view of the splendors of art.” Mrs. Sylvester smiled and cast a side glance of amusement at Bertram. “You admire our new hangings I see,” remarked she with an indulgence of the other’s _näiveté_ that greatly relieved her husband. But in that instant a change had come across Paula; the simple country maid had assimilated herself with the surroundings, and with a sudden grace and dignity that were unstudied as they were charming, dropped her eyes from her cousin’s portrait—that for some reason seemed to shine with more than its usual insistence—and calmly replied, “I admire all beautiful color; it is my birthright as a Walton, to do so, I suppose.” Mrs. Sylvester was a Walton also and therefore smiled; but her husband, who had marked with inward distrust, the sudden transformation in Paula, now stepped forward with a word or two of remark concerning his appetite, a prosaic allusion that led to the rapid disappearance of the ladies upstairs and a short but hurried conversation between the two gentlemen. “I have brought you a sealed envelope from the office,” said Bertram, who, in accordance with his uncle’s advice, had already initiated himself into business by assuming the position of clerk in the office of the wealthy speculator. “Ah,” returned his uncle hastily opening it. “As I expected, a meeting has been held this day by the board of Directors of the Madison Bank, a vote was cast, my proxy did his duty and I am duly elected President. Bertram, we know what that means,” smiled he, holding out his hand with an affectionate warmth greatly in advance of the emotion displayed by him on a former occasion. “I hope so indeed,” young Bertram responded. “An increase of fortune and honor for you, though you seem to have both in the fullest measure already, and a start in the new life for me to whom fortune and honor mean happiness.”