of his manner, characterized by singular candor, rendered him an unusually agreeable companion; but Beulah rebelled against the unobtrusive yet constant care with which she fancied he watched her.  The seclusion of her life, and the reserve of her nature, conspired to impart a degree of abruptness to her own manners; and to one who understood her character less than Reginald Lindsay there was an unhesitating sincerity of expression which might have been termed rudeness.  The frequency of his visits attracted the attention of strangers; already the busy tongue of meddling gossip had connected their names; Dr. Asbury, too, bantered her unmercifully upon his nephew’s constant pilgrimages to the city; and the result was that Mr. Lindsay’s receptions grew colder and less flattering continually.  From the first she had not encouraged his visits, and now she positively discouraged them by every intimation which the rules of etiquette justified her in offering.  Yet she respected, esteemed, and in many things admired him; and readily confessed to her own heart that his society often gave her pleasure,

One winter evening she sat alone by the dining-room fire, with a newspaper in her hand, reading a notice of the last number of the magazine, in which one of her sketches was roughly handled.  Of course she was no better pleased with the unflattering criticism than the majority of writers in such cases.  She frowned, bit her lip, and wondered who could have written it.  The review was communicated, and the paper had been sent to her by some unknown hand.  Once more she read the article, and her brow cleared, while a smile broke over her face.  She had recognized a particular dictum, and was no longer puzzled.  Leaning her head on her palm, she sat looking into the fire, ruminating on the objections urged against her piece; it was the first time she had ever been unfavorably criticised, and this was sufficient food for thought.

Mr. Lindsay came in and stood near her unobserved.  They had not met for several weeks, and she was not aware that he was in the city.  Charon, who lay on the rug at her feet, growled, and she looked round.

“Good-evening,” said her visitor, extending his hand.

She did not accept it; but merely inclined her head, saying: 

“Ah, how do you do, sir?”

He laid a package on the table, drew a chair near the hearth without looking at her, and, calling to Charon, patted his huge head kindly.

“What have you there, Miss Beulah?  Merely a newspaper; it seems to interest you intensely.  May I see it?”

“I am certainly very much obliged to you, sir, for the chivalrous spirit in which you indited your criticism.  I was just pondering it when you entered.”

She smiled as she spoke, and shook the paper at him.

“I thought I had feigned a style you would not recognize,” he answered quite unconcernedly.

“You succeeded admirably, with the exception of one pet phrase, which betrayed you.  Next time, recollect that you are very partial to some particular expressions, with which I happen to be acquainted; and avoid their introduction.”