"I am no Hercules, to turn the Peneus of reform through the Augean realms of society," answered Cornelia, with an impatient gesture; and, rising, she drew on her glove. Beulah looked up at her, and pitied the joyless, cynical nature, which gave an almost repulsively austere expression to the regular, faultless features.
"Beulah, will you come on Saturday morning and spend an hour or so with me?"
"No; I have a music lesson to give; but if you will be at home in the afternoon, I will come with pleasure."
"I shall expect you, then. You were drawing when I came in; are you fond of it?" As she spoke she took up a piece which was nearly completed.
"Yes; but you will find my sketches very crude."
"Who taught you to draw?"
"I have had several teachers. All rather indifferent, however."
"Where did you see a St. Cecilia? There is too much breadth of brow here," continued Cornelia, with a curious glance at the young teacher.
"Yes; I deviated from the original intentionally. I copied it from a collection of heads which Georgia Asbury brought from the North."
"I have a number of choice paintings, which I selected in Europe.
Any that you may fancy are at your service for models."