By the time Farnham returned, the cereus had attained its full glory of bloom.  Its vast petals were thrown back to their fullest extent, and shone with a luminous beauty in which its very perfume seemed visible; the countless recurved stamens shot forth with the vigorous impulse and vitality of sun rays; from the glowing centre to the dark fringe with which the shattered sheath still accented its radiant outline it blazed forth, fully revealed; and its sweet breath seemed the voice of a pride and consciousness of beauty like that of the goddess on Mount Ida, calmly triumphant in the certainty of perfect loveliness.

Alice had grown interested in her task, and looked up for only an instant with her frank, clear eyes as Farnham entered.  “Now, where shall I sit?” he asked.  “Here, behind your right elbow, where I can look over your shoulder and observe the work as it goes on?”

“By no means.  My hand would lose all its little cunning in that case.”

“Then I will sit in front of you and study the artistic emotions in your face.”

“That would be still worse, for you would hide my subject.  I am sure you are very well as you are,” she added, as he seated himself in a chair beside her, a little way off.

“Yes, that is very well.  I have the flower three-quarters and you in profile.  I will study the one for a panel and the other for a medal.”

Miss Alice laughed gently.  She laughed often from sheer good humor, answering the intention of what was said to her better than by words.

“Can you sketch and talk too?” asked Farnham.

“I can sketch and listen,” she said.  “You will talk and keep me amused.”

“Amusement with malice aforethought!  The order affects my spirits like a Dead March.  How do the young men amuse young ladies nowadays?  Do they begin by saying, ‘Have you been very gay lately?’”

Again Miss Alice laughed.  “She is an easy-laughing girl,” thought Farnham.  “I like easy-laughing girls.  When she laughs, she always blushes a very little.  It is worth while talking nonsense to see a girl laugh so pleasantly and blush so prettily.”

It is not worth while, however, to repeat all the nonsense Farnham uttered in the next hour.  He got very much interested in it himself, and was so eager sometimes to be amusing that he grew earnest, and the gentle laugh would cease and the pretty lips would come gravely together.  Whenever he saw this he would fall back upon his trifling again.  He had the soldier’s fault of point-blank compliment, but with it an open sincerity of manner which relieved his flattery of any offensiveness.  He had practised it in several capitals with some success.  A dozen times this evening, a neat compliment came to his lips and stopped there.  He could hardly understand his own reserve before this laughing young lady.  Why should he not say something pretty about her hair and eyes, about her graceful attitude, about the nimble