fragrance and beauty of the evening, and
the jubilant singing of that thrush.

Meanwhile Myrrha tried a little sentimental
flirtation. Letting her soft music
almost die away, she sighed a great sigh.

"I dare say you think me a very frivolous
girl, Mr. Stewart?"

"You are very young, Miss Brown; you
have time to improve."

"All the circumstances of my life have
been against me. I have always lived with
frivolous and worldly people. Of course it
would have been very vain of me to
encourage myself to be different from
everybody about me."

"Are you not vain?" he asked with
surprise that there should be room for
question on this point.

"I don't really think I am very vain at
heart."

"I wonder if you are right or not?"

There was a pause. Then Myrrha said:

"I hope, Mr. Stewart, you don't think
me ill-tempered. Indeed it is trying to be
treated as you treat me: especially trying
to me, who have never had any experience
of the kind!"

"How do I treat you?"

"You snub me. That is, you're always
saying hard things. It is good for me. I
don't wish you to do differently. I may
come to like it, but it is the first time I
have been treated in this way: and to be
treated first in this way by one whose good
opinion and admiration one feels to be
worth having, is rather trying you must
admit. So, if I seem rather ill-tempered
under it, you must make excuses for me."

Myrrha dashed her handkerchief across
her eyes. They were moist with the earnestness
with which she had spoken; for certainly
her feelings had been a good deal
wounded.

Mr, Stewart did not speak immediately.
Presently he said:

"Miss Brown, you bring a grave charge
against me. I must have been monstrously
impertinent. In my own defence I must
say, that I believe I could hardly have
transgressed in the manner you indicate,
had you, yourself, not invited the criticism
you have found it hard to bear."

"I did invite it, I wished for it. I could
never feel you impertinent, however cruel
I might think you. I hope you will continue
to criticise me. I feel you may do
me so much good."

"The post of mentor to a young and
lovely lady is one of danger, Miss Brown!
I am too old and wary voluntarily to enter
the enchanted net I see so daintily spread
for me. There is your Aunt Daisy—for
counsel, for encouragement, for example,
what more, or better, or different can you
require?"

"Aunt Daisy," said Myrrha, with a
peculiar expression, "is——Aunt Daisy.
To begin with, she has had no general
experience of life to entitle her to speak with
authority: to go on with hers is not an
example I should wish to imitate. I am
not naturally morbid, I don't wish to become
so. I wish mine to be a bright, wholesome,
practical existence. To end with, I
know that I need to be governed by a
man's will, scourged by a man's censure,
stimulated by a man's praise. I have never
been amenable to petticoat government."
He thought the eyes with which she looked
at him, saying this, splendidly audacious.

"I don't think you should be proud of
that concluding confession, Miss Brown.
I have always specially liked to see young
girls render docile and reverent submission
to women. I have noticed this docility, as
girls, in some of the most admirable women
I have known. I have noticed, too, that
often girls who profess extreme docility to
masculine guidance, and submission to
masculine judgment, really desire only
masculine admiration, and, when married, often
make rebellious and headstrong wives."

Mr. Stewart had been stung by the half-
contemptuous tone in which Myrrha spoke
of Daisy, and his own tone was harsh.
There was a pause: then Myrrha said,
softly and sighingly through the dusk:

"I am very unfortunate, Mr. Stewart.
All I say and do seems to provoke your
dislike."

"Dislike of some things you say and do
need not imply dislike of yourself, Miss
Brown."

"Perhaps, Mr. Stewart, I should feel
less as if it did imply that dislike, if you
wouldn't call me always by my hideous
common name, 'Miss Brown.' If you
would call me 'Myrrha,' the hard things
you say wouldn't seem quite so hard."

"But, possibly, I don't wish them to be
less forcible."

"Won't you call me Myrrha? I'm such
a child to you. There can be no harm.
Why, I suppose, you are old enough to be
my father, almost. Promise that you will
call me Myrrha when you are not angry
with me. Do, Mr. Stewart." And she
laid her hand coaxingly on his arm.

"By-and-bye, we will see about it. At
present we are very recent acquaintances."