"With all his firmness and self-control," thought I，"he tasks himself too far: locks every feeling and pang within- expresses，confesses，imparts nothing. I am sure it would benefit him to talk a little about this sweet Rosamond，whom he thinks he ought not to marry: I will make him talk."

I said first，"Take a chair，Mr. Rivers." But he answered，as he always did，that he could not stay. "Very well," I responded，mentally，"stand if you like; but you shall not go just yet，I am determined: solitude is at least as bad for you as it is for me.

I"ll try if I cannot discover the secret spring of your confidence，and find an aperture in that marble breast through which I can shed one drop of the balm of sympathy."

"Is this portrait like?" I asked bluntly.

"Like! Like whom? I did not observe it closely."

"You did，Mr. Rivers."

He almost started at my sudden and strange abruptness: he looked at me astonished. "Oh，that is nothing yet," I muttered within. "I don"t mean to be baffled by a little stiffness on your part; I"m prepared to go to considerable lengths." I continued，"You observed it closely and distinctly; but I have no objection to your looking at it again," and I rose and placed it in his hand.

"A well-executed picture," he said; "very soft，clear colouring; very graceful and correct drawing."