Then came the gentlemen, Dr.May begging Mr.Rivers to show Ethel one of his prints, when Ethel stooped more than ever, as if her eyelashes were feelers, but she was in transports of delight, and her embarrassment entirely at an end in her admiration, as she exclaimed and discussed with her papa, and by her hearty appreciation made Mr.Rivers for the time forget her plainness.
Music followed; Flora played nicely, Meta like a well-taught girl; Ethel went on musing over the engravings.

The carriage was announced, and so ended the day in Norman's fairy-land.

Ethel went home, leaning hard against her papa, talking to him of Raphael's Madonnas; and looking out at the stars, and thinking how the heavenly beauty of those faces that, in the prints she had been turning over, seemed to be connected with the glories of the dark-blue sky and glowing stars.

"As one star differeth from another star in glory," murmured she; "that was the lesson to-day, papa;" and when she felt him press her hand, she knew he was thinking of that last time she had heard the lesson, when he had not been with her, and her thoughts went with his, though not another word was spoken.
Flora hardly knew when they ceased to talk.

She had musings equally engrossing of her own.