As on a swiftly revolving wheel, Beryl saw the black eyes and gold-rimmed spectacles of Leighton Douglass; the shield-shaped amethyst ring on his broad, white hand; the slender figure by his side, draped in some soft brown tint of surah silk, the blond hair, the wide, startled hazel eyes of Leo, who made a step forward, then paused irresolute.

The gaze of the visitors was fastened upon the superb form wearing the gray garb of flannel, with snowy fluted frills at the rounded wrists and throat, and a ruffled white muslin mob cap crowning rich waves of bronze hair, that framed a beautiful pale face, whose gray eyes kept always the soft shadow of their long jet lashes.

Only half a minute sufficed to gird Beryl, and with no hint of recognition in her tranquil countenance, she moved forward, opened the drawers, and spread out for inspection various specimens of drawing and painting, in all stages of advancement.

A crimson tide overflowed Leo’s cheeks, but accepting the cue of silence, she refrained from any manifestation of previous acquaintance; and bending over the pictures, listened to the grave, sweet voice that briefly, though courteously answered all inquiries concerning the school, hours of classes, tuition fees, remunerative rates paid for designs for carpets, wall papers and decorative upholstering.  Unrolling from a wooden cylinder a strip of thick paper, two yards long and twenty inches wide, she displayed an elaborate arabesque pattern done in sepia for a sgraffito frieze, sixteenth century, which had been ordered by the architect of the new “Museum of Art”.

“A bit of your favorite Florentine facade,” said the Bishop, addressing his cousin, and peering closely at the scroll work.

“In this corner of the world, one scarcely expects a glimpse of Andrea Feltrini,” answered Leo, avoiding the necessity of looking at Beryl, by glancing at Mr. Kendall.

“What are your sources of information?” inquired Bishop Douglass.

“We have a carefully selected collection of engravings, and a few good sketches and cartoons; moreover, some of our Sisterhood have been in Italy.”

In attempting to roll the strip, it slipped from her fingers.  Both women stooped to catch it, and their hands met.  Looking into Leo’s eyes, Beryl whispered:  “See me alone.”  Then she rewound the paper, restored its oil silk cover, and shut the drawer.

“Do you find that the demand for purely ornamental work renders this department self-sustaining?” asked Leighton Douglass.

“I think the experience of the ‘Anchorage’ justifies that belief; especially since the popularization of so-called ‘Decorative Art’, which projects the useful into the realm of the beautiful; and by lending the grace of ornament to the strictly utilitarian, dims the old line of demarcation.”