‘Very much. The change from the hot, dusty town, and from my paint-smelling atelier is really delightful. Everything up at Trockenau is so fresh, and the society is very amusing—yes, really exceedingly amusing.’ Sara laughed as she spoke—a pleasant, round, though not loud laugh. ‘Herr von Lemde’s society makes dulness out of the question,’ said Wellfield, composedly. Miss Ford reddened a little. ‘Oh, did you hear all that? Well, who could be dull with Herr von Lemde? So long as I know that I may quit his society whenever I choose, he is delightfully amusing; and if I knew that I had to endure his society whether I liked it or not, I should at once become desperate, and capable of any crime, I think, so that in any case dulness is out of the question.’ Wellfield laughed. ‘How long are you staying?’ he asked. ‘Another week, I think, at least. The countess is very kind, and will not hear of my leaving sooner. You, I suppose, will remain with your father?’ ‘I shall remain with my father at present,’ he answered. There was a pause as they paced along the side-walk, somewhat removed from the glare of the lamps, and felt, each with a different degree of intensity, that they were alone. The other girls and their companions had fallen behind, and the countess and the others had not yet come up, glorified and hallowed by their interview with their Imperial Master. Sara Ford, beautiful, talented, and charming, was an artist, almost alone in the world, fatherless, motherless, and with very little money, but with great talent and high ambition. She was spending her holiday at the country house, near Nassau, of the Count and Countess of Trockenau, her fast friends, and almost her only rich or distinguished patrons. Jerome Wellfield, who walked by her side, was the heir to an old name and a fair estate, of whose beauty she had heard him speak in terms which, with him, might pass for enthusiastic. This enthusiasm was the result of a visit to the said house years ago, when he had been a mere child, and so deep had been the impression then made upon him by the beauty and desirableness of the house of his fathers, that he was firmly resolved, far from following his father’s example of absenteeism, to settle there as soon as conveniently might be. His acquaintance with Sara Ford had not been a very long one; he had met her at the Countess of Trockenau’s house about a month ago, during the first part of her visit; yet, even now, neither ever saw the other without feeling a secret thrill of joy. As they silently walked on, she suddenly looked up at him, almost involuntarily—for though she was ‘more than common tall,’ he had somewhat to bend his head to speak to her—and found his dark, sombre, and, as she felt, most beautiful eyes, fixed upon her face. She blushed a little, and sighed quickly. His face, like some exquisite ivory cameo in its perfect outlines, and in the still, severe beauty of its contours, haunted her with a