in her. But just when an honorable feeling of choosing her from all others is dawning as a possibility on his mind, a wonderful discovery bursts upon him.
He has been amusing himself by conducting a correspondence with some unknown lady who has signed herself “E. L.” This incognita has at last yielded to an oft-urged request to send her picture, and a fine photograph of a beautiful girl has come to him. Whose face does he see? “By all that is astounding,” he says, “Miss Lloyd!” He cannot be mistaken. The very same. It is a Rembrandt shadow picture, by which he studies every line of the profile, while it shows also the contour of the full face. There is the dark hair waving from the same fair forehead. The eyes are the same dark orbs with the long lashes, only he has never seen just this bright, coquettish, laughing look in them before. It is wonderfully charming in the picture, but he really does not like it as well as the other thoughtful, intent gaze he has lately come to love so well.
“The demure little cheat!” he says. “Well, she is very versatile, it must be confessed. Who would have thought it? But stop. This may be a cheat. The whole thing is so unlike her. I do believe the writer has sent Miss Lloyd’s picture instead of her own. ‘E. L.’ L for Lloyd certainly, and I saw Elinor Lloyd written on her music, and, by Jove! I think it was the very writing. I’ll look again”—which he does, and finds it to be just the very same E and L; and no wonder, for Lizzie Lennox wrote it in other days, when she gave that music to her cousin.
Then he observes, what careless Lizzie has never once thought of, the name of the photographer, to whom he goes at once, and by no very
adroit means discovers the name of the fair original. And here he is again astonished. He finds he has the photograph of Miss Lizzie Lennox. “L. L.,” he says to himself, “and not E. L., after all,” and in his bewilderment it is actually some days before it occurs to him that Lizzie is the pet name for Elizabeth.
Now, having arrived thus far in his pursuit of information under difficulties, he is unable to decide whether she is Miss Lennox or Miss Lloyd. In this dilemma he questions his sister, Mrs. Wood, and determines that she can scarcely be any other than the Miss Lloyd she professes herself. So the false name has been given the photographer, he thinks; and he makes up his mind that Miss Lloyd, though unquestionably very charming, is about as profound a coquette as he is ever likely to meet.
And so believing, his manner toward Elinor takes on a new phase, which pleases her so little that it has the effect of making her more reserved than heretofore. She now avoids him as much as possible, and yet she is conscious of a sharp pain in thus being driven to an attitude of defence. She is young and frank, and would be light-hearted if in her true position. She has really liked Frederick Schuyler because she found him companionable in a house where all are either older or younger than herself except him. Their tastes are similar in many things, and of late he had seemed to her more honest. But now he treats her with a certain familiarity of look and tone which offends her nice sense of propriety. She cannot guess at the false position in which she is placed. She has been very reticent concerning herself and her relatives. True pride and dignity have made her forbear to allude to her wealthy relations, the Lennoxes, now that she is supporting
herself. She does not wish to seem to make any claim for consideration outside of her own individual merits. This is not vanity, but proper self-respect; and this feeling is increased by the utter silence which Lizzie has preserved toward her. But as she withdraws from even the slight friendship which she had allowed to spring up between herself and Mr. Schuyler, she feels more lonely. Her religion separates her also from a closer confidence with Mrs. Wood, who goes to a fashionable Unitarian church.
But Frederick Schuyler does not give up his interest in this baffling coquette, for so he firmly believes Elinor to be. Does he not hold the proof? He has sent his own picture to E. L. at the usual address, and he firmly believes that Elinor Lloyd has that picture in her possession. He waits until he receives an acknowledgment from E. L.; and then he watches Elinor. He is prepared to see her betray her overwhelming confusion at discovering who her unknown correspondent is. What, then, is his amazement, his disappointment, at seeing no ripple of disturbance in her composed demeanor! He is exasperated at this assurance. He determines to shake her composure by direct means. The opportunity offers only too soon.
As the last music lesson for the day is finished and the pupil bounds from the room, Mr. Frederick Schuyler presents himself with a peculiar and, to Elinor, an offensive smile on his face.