"Have you no picture of her?"
"None; she would never consent to sit."
"Your father was a Cameron; I have known some of that name."
"No relation of ours: my mother says we have none living."
"And have we no chance of seeing Lady Vargrave in B——-shire?"
"She never leaves home; but I hope to return soon to Brook-Green."
Maltravers sighed, and the conversation took a new turn.
"I have to thank you for the books you so kindly sent; I ought to have returned them ere this," said Evelyn.
"I have no use for them. Poetry has lost its charm for me,—especially that species of poetry which unites with the method and symmetry something of the coldness of Art. How did you like Alfieri?"
"His language is a kind of Spartan French," answered Evelyn, in one of those happy expressions which every now and then showed the quickness of her natural talent.