For a few moments Miss Mayhew and Van Berg walked on in silence, each very doubtful of the other. At last the artist began:

"I am well aware, Miss Mayhew, that this unexpected episode and this enforced companionship give me no rights whatever. I do not propose to annoy you, after seeing you safely to the hotel, by assuming that we are acquainted, nor do I intend to subject myself to the mortification of being informed publicly, by your manner, that we are not on speaking terms. I would be glad to have this question settled now. I ask your pardon for anything that I may have said or done to hurt your feelings, and having thus gone more than half-way it would be ungenerous on your part not to respond in like spirit."

"You apologize, then?"

"No; I ask your pardon for anything that may have hurt your feelings."

"You have said very disagreeable things about me, Mr. Van Berg."

"I did not know you then."

"I do not think you have changed your opinion of me in the least."

"I evidently have a much higher opinion of you than you of me, and I am seeking your acquaintance with a persistence such as I never manifested in the case of any other lady. Thus the odds are all in your favor. Having been so unexpectedly thrown together—-"

"'Thrown together,' indeed—Mr. Van Berg, you ARE mocking me," and her eyes again filled with tears of vexation.

"I assure you I am not," said Van Berg earnestly. "I could not be so mean as to twit you with an accident which you could not help, and with an act which was wholly involuntary on your part. Can we not both let by-gones by by-gones and commence anew?"

Miss Mayhew bit her lip and hesitated a few moments.

"I think that will be the better way," she said. "We will both let by-gones, especially this ridiculous episode in the stage. I'll put you on your good behavior."

"Thank you, Miss Mayhew. I would take our late risk twenty times for such a result."

"I would not take it again on any account whatever. Please refer to it no more. I declare, there comes Cousin Ik and Mr. Burleigh to meet us. Was one's fortune ever so exasperating! Ik will teaze me out of all comfort for weeks to come."

"Say little and leave all to my discretion," said Van Berg, reassuringly; "and, by the way, you might limp a little more decidedly," which she immediately did.

"My dear Miss Mayhew, I trust you are not seriously hurt," began
Mr. Burleigh while still several yards off.

Stanton's face was a study as he approached. Indeed he seemed half ready to explode with suppressed merriment, but before he could speak a warning glance from Van Berg checked him.

"Miss Mayhew might have been seriously and possibly fatally injured," said the artist gravely, "had it not been for her self-control. Although it seemed that the stage would be dashed to pieces every moment, I told her that in my judgement it would be safer to remain within it than to spring out upon the hard and stony road, and I am very glad that the final event confirmed my opinion."

As they were by this time near to the hotel, others who had been alarmed by seeing the horses tearing up to the stable door, now hastily joined them; and last, but not least, Mrs. Mayhew came panting upon the scene. Van Berg felt the hand of the young lady trembling in nervous apprehension upon his arm, from which, in her embarrassment, she forgot to remove it. But the artist did not fail her, and in answer to Mr. Burleigh's eager questions as to the cause of the accident, explained all so plausibly, and in such a matter-of-fact manner as left little more even to be surmised. His brief and prosaic history of the affair concluded with the following implied tribute to his companion, which still further relieved her from fear of ridicule:

"Miss Mayhew," he said, "instead of jumping out, after the frantic terror-blinded manner of most people, remained in the stage and so has escaped, I trust, with nothing worse than a slight lameness caused by the violent motion of the vehicle. I will now resign her to your care, Mr. Stanton, and I am glad to believe that the occasion will require the services of the wheelwright and harness-maker only, and not those of a surgeon," and lifting his hat to Mrs. Mayhew and her daughter he bowed himself off the scene.

Ida, leaning on the arm of her cousin, limped appropriately to her room, whither she had her dinner sent to her, more for the purpose of gaining time to compose her nerves than for any other reason.

The impression that she had behaved courageously in peril was rapidly increased as the story was repeated by one and another, and she received several congratulatory visits in the afternoon from her lady acquaintances; and when she came down to supper she found that she was even a greater heroine than Miss Burton had been. In answer to many sympathetic inquiries, she said that she "felt as well as ever," and she tried to prove it by her gayety and careful toilet.

But she was decidedly ill at ease. Her old self-complacency was ebbing away faster than ever. From the time that it had first been disturbed by the artist's frown in the concert garden, she had been conscious of a secret and growing self-dissatisfaction.

It seemed to be this stranger's mission to break the spell vanity and flattery had woven about her. The congratulations she was now receiving were secured by a fraudulent impression, if not by actual falsehood, and she permitted this impression to remain and grow. The one, who above all others she most feared and disliked, knew this. In smilingly accepting the compliments showered upon her from all sides she felt that she must appear to him as if receiving stolen goods, and she believed that in his heart he despised her more thoroughly than ever.

To the degree that he caused her disquietude and secret humiliation, her desire to retaliate increased, and she resolved, before the day closed, to use her beauty as a weapon to inflict upon him the severest wound possible. If it were within the power of her art she would bring him to her feet and keep him there until she could, in the most decided and public manner, spurn his abject homage. She would have no scruple in doing this in any case, but, in this instance, success would give her the keenest satisfaction.

His very desire for her acquaintance, as she understood it, was humiliating, and, in a certain sense, demoralizing. Her other suitors had imagined that she had good traits back of her beauty, and hitherto she had been carelessly content to believe that she could display such traits in abundance should the occasion require them. Here was one, however, who, while despising the woman, was apparently seeking her for the sake of her beauty merely; and her woman's soul, warped and dwarfed as it was, resented an homage that was seemingly sensuous and superficial, and would, of necessity, be transient. In her ignorance of Van Berg's motives, and in the utter impossibility of surmising them, she could scarcely come to any other conclusion; and she determined to punish him to the utmost extent of her ability.

Thus it came to pass that Miss Mayhew had designs against Van Berg that were not quite as amiable as those of the artist in regard to herself.

Stanton, in a low tone, remarked to her at the supper table, "Now that fate has throw you and Van Berg together in such a remarkable manner" (the young lady colored deeply at this unfortunate expression and looked at him keenly), "I trust that you will yield gracefully to destiny and treat him with ordinary courtesy when you meet. Otherwise you may occasion surmises that will not be agreeable to you."

"Has he been telling you anything about this morning?" she asked quickly.

"Nothing more than he said in your presence. Why, was there anything more to tell?"

"Certainly not, but he made ill-natured remarks about me once—that is, you said he did—and why should he not again?"

"Well, he has not. I think he spoke very handsomely of you this morning. I hope he didn't exaggerate your good behavior."

"If you prefer to believe ill of me you are welcome to do so. For my part, I believe you exaggerate what Mr. Van Berg said at the concert, and that he never meant to be so rude. As far as I can judge, he has shown no such unmannerly disposition since coming here."

"Indeed, you are right. I think his disposition has compared favorably with your own."

"Well," she replied, with a peculiar smile, "we are on speaking terms for the present."

"That smile bodes no good-will towards my friend, but for once you will find a man who will not fall helplessly in love with your mere beauty."

"If you will glance at yonder table you can see that Miss Burton has already so absorbed him that he has eyes for no one else."

"They have jolly good times at that table. I wish we were there."

"Indeed! are you bewitched also? I can't see what it is that people find so attractive in that plain-looking girl."

"Well, for one thing, she has a mind. Beauty without mind is like salad without dressing."

"And do you mean to say that I have no mind?" Ida asked, with a sudden flush.

"My dear Coz, we were speaking solely of Miss Burton. Indeed, I think you have a very decided will of your own."

"I understand you. Well, in what other respects is Miss Burton my superior?"

"I doubt if Miss Burton ever thinks of herself as superior to any one, and that's another very amiable trait in her."

"Can you not sum up her perfections a little more rapidly? Life is short," remarked Ida, acidly.

"Come, Coz, let me get you some sweet-oil before you finish your supper. You know you are the handsomest girl in the State, and that's distinction enough for one woman. To you, Miss Burton is only a plain school-teacher. Why should you envy her?"

"I do not envy her, nor can I see why people are so carried away with her."

"It IS remarkable to see what an impression she has made in two brief days. Of course her courage in saving the child served as a general and favorable introduction, but it does not by any means explain her growing popularity. For some reason or other those about her always seem to be having a good time. See how animated and pleased is the expression of all the faces at her table yonder. It was the same on the croquet-ground this morning. She effervesced like champagne, and before we knew it we were all in a state of exhilaration and the morning had gone."

"I hate these bold, forward women who are quick to become acquainted with every one. A man of this type is bad enough, but a woman is unendurable."

"I agree with you in the abstract most heartily; but the only bold thing that I have seen Miss Burton do was to run under the feet of my horses. You might as well call a ray of sunshine bold and forward; and people like sunshine when it is as nicely tempered as her manner is. I confess that when I first learned who she was, and before I had met her personally, I was greatly prejudiced against her, but one would have to be a churl indeed to remain proof against her genial good-nature. For my part I intend to enjoy it, as I do all the other good things the gods throw in my way."

"The gods would indeed be careless to leave any good things within your reach, unless they were meant for you," snapped Ida.

"Good for you, Coz; your ride with Van Berg has already brightened you up. There is no telling what you might not become if you would only associate with men who had sufficient brains not to grow spooney over your pretty face."

As Ida and her mother passed out on the piazza, Van Berg joined them and said:

"I am glad to see that you have so fully recovered, Miss Mayhew.
You prove again that you possess good strong nerves."

"Thank you," said the young lady, laconically, and with a sudden accession of color.

"Mr. Van Berg," began Mrs. Mayhew with great animation, "I'm excessively thankful that you happened to be on the road, and that the stage overtook you this morning. It was so fortunate that I almost think it providential. How dreadful it would have been if Ida had been alone in such frightful peril! I cannot tell you also how delighted I am that my daughter behaved so beautifully. Indeed, I must confess that I am agreeably surprised, for Ida was never famous for her courage. Your own manner must have inspired confidence in her; and now that you have been so fortunately THROWN TOGETHER, I trust you may be better friends in the future."

Miss Mayhew's rising color deepened into an intense scarlet, and, as she turned away to hide her confusion, she could not forbear shooting a wrathful glance at the artist. He had sufficient self-control not to change a muscle, or to appear in the slightest degree aware of the embarrassment caused by her mother's words, and especially the use of the phrase—grown to be most hateful from its associations—that so vividly recalled to the incensed maiden the anomalous position in which she found herself at the end of her perilous morning ride.

"You ladies differ favorably from us men," said Van Berg, quietly. "You rise to meet an emergency by an innate quality of your sex, whereas, in our case, if our native strength is not equal to the occasion we fall below it as a matter of course."

"Oh, that accounts for Ida's coming off with such flying colors—she rose to meet the emergency. I hope, however, she will EMBRACE no more such opportunities of showing her courage—why! Ida, what IS the matter? what have I said?" but the young lady, with face inflamed, vanished in the direction of her room.

"Well, this IS strange," remarked the lady with a sharp glance of inquiry at the artist, who still managed to maintain an expression of lamb-like innocence. "I do believe the poor child is ill, and, now I think of it, she has not acted like herself for several days;" and she sought her daughter with hasty steps.

But the young lady did not go to her room, being well aware that her mother would soon follow for the explanation which she could not give. Therefore, taking a side corridor, she joined some acquaintances on another piazza. ag8M5vNzAl0ThBPEn3WwrWZHZGh3Z7HzPmgQJtX2dFiHcxeqdaZD7/Bfaq+hhRsT