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gown with warm tones, dyeing her cheek with a deeper pink, and adding new glory to the gold of her hair. From where Miles stood and silently gazed his fill the girl's face was silhouetted softly against the shadowed greenery beyond. She was quite young,—perhaps twenty-one or two,—slender, radiant with youth and health, and beautiful beyond any pictured princess of Miles's acquaintance. She wore a white skirt and waist, and a blue painting apron was thrown across her lap as she sat. Once while he looked she let the hand with the brush fall dejectedly and gazed for a moment at the canvas before her; he could see the little frown creep across the white forehead. Then the brush sought the vivid palette again, the golden head bent toward the easel, and the work went on.

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