"By Jove! I will. But perhaps she wouldn't like me to intrude."
"Mr. Randall, they are waiting for us down stairs," said Miss Felice, stiffly. "Jennie—Royal—go out and go to bed."
Georgia caught a parting glimpse of the graceful, gallant form of the young poet as he held open the door for Miss Felice to go out, and drew a deep breath of relief when they were gone. Then, having assured herself that the coast was clear, she hurried out and sought her own room, and searched for Emily's portrait, but it was missing.
Next morning, as Georgia was about to enter the school-room, Miss Felice fluttered up stairs, in a floating white cashmere morning-gown, and with the drawing in her hand.
"Good-morning, Miss Randall," she said, briefly; "is this yours?"
"Yes," said Georgia, quietly.
"Will you be kind enough to give it to me?"
"It is the portrait of a very dear friend. I should be happy to oblige you were it otherwise, Miss Leonard," said Georgia, coldly.
"A portrait! that heavenly face! is it possible?" exclaimed the astounded young lady.
Georgia bowed gravely.