praised her before, to the surprise of the lookers-on; the generous enthusiasm of the artist glowed in him. If he could, he would have helped her over the roughness of the way, just as the Minor Canon, longing and pitiful, would have helped her if he could, over the roughness of life. But the one man was still more powerless than the other to smooth her path. Here it was not sex, nor circumstances, which were in fault, but the rigid principles of art, which are less yielding than rocks; every step, however painful, in that thorny way the neophyte must tread for herself. The Signor knew it; but the more his beginner stumbled, the more eager was he to cheer her on. “I am afraid I sang very badly,” Lottie said, coming out with Mrs. O’Shaughnessy and the Minor Canon, who went along with them he scarcely knew why. He could do nothing for the girl, but he did not like to leave her--to seem (to himself) to desert her. Only himself was in the least degree aware that he was standing by Lottie in her trouble. “Me child, you all think a deal too much about it. It was neither better nor worse; that’s what I don’t like in all your singing. It may be fine music, but it’s always the same thing over and over. If it was a tune that a body could catch--but it’s little good the best tune would have been to me this day. I didn’t hear you, Lottie, for thinking what was to become of you. What will ye do? Will you never mind, but go back? Sure you’ve a right to your father’s house whatever happens, and I wouldn’t be driven away at the first word. There is nothing would please her so well. I’d go back!” “Oh, don’t say any more!” cried Lottie with a movement of sudden pride. But when she caught the pitying look of the Minor Canon her heart melted. “Mr. Ashford will not be angry because I don’t like to speak of it,” she said, raising her eyes to him. “He knows that things are not--not very happy--at home.” Then Mr. Ashford awoke to the thought that he might be intruding upon her. He took leave of the ladies hurriedly. But when she had given him her hand, he stood holding it for a minute. “I begin to like Law very much,” he said. To feel that this was the way in which he could give her most pleasure was a delicate instinct, but it was not such a pleasure as it would have been a month ago. Lottie did not speak, but a gleam of satisfaction rose in her eyes. “If there is anything I can do,” he said faltering, “to be of use----”