Ideala

ves, and we should have missed her as you would miss the thrushes in the spring, or any other sweet familiar thing. But what the secret of her charm was I cannot say. She was full of inconsis

every one, men and women alike, feel, and she did it unconsciously. Without effort, without eccentricity, without anything you could name or define, she impressed you, and she held you -or at least she held me, always-expectant. Nothing about her ever seemed to be of the present. When she talked she made you wonder what her past had been, and when she was silent you began to speculate about her future. But she did not talk much as a rule, and when she did speak it was always some subject of interest, some fact that she wanted to ascertain

people," she once said, "it is

hate of hate, t

ove o

feeling you may be as passive as a cow, and still exc

ity them

y could do better if they would. They know the higher walk, and deliberately pursue the lower. Their whole feeling is for themselves, and such things as have power to move them through the flesh only. I would almost

l without a word that she did so. It was this power to sympathise, and the longing she had to find good in everything, that made her forgive the faults that were patent in a nature with which

best to detect the original melody among the clashing cords that concealed it; but, let it be hidden as it might, one felt that

hout rudeness to those about her; and even when she was obliged to look away, I could see that she was still thinking of the sky. "Do you live much in cloudland?" I asked, and felt for a moment I had said a silly thing; but she turned

autiful? Will you sit beside me here? You can see

n I spoke to her once or twice she answered absently; and presen

old rivulet,

ute wave

thee my ste

r and f

fusion, "O please forgive me! That stupid thing has been running in my head

s careful not to let her know that I thought it so, although I must confess that for a moment I felt just a trifle aggrieved

they might treat her. And she had the power of liking people for themselves, regardless of their feeling for her; indeed, her indifference on this score was curious. I once heard a lady say to her:

iousness

eeling yo

"I do not think I am conscious of anything that relates to myself, personally, in my

just to have you there, but she never showed it except by a regretful glance when you went away. She was very

he matter?" I

ately; "I've lost my pen, an

you looking fo

t me, and the

I was looking for it among the

ast she put the gum-brush into the ink-bottle. Discovering her mistake, she gave a little disconcerted sort of laugh, and took the brush away to wash it. She

e Grosvenor Gallery on a certain occasion. She had been busy with her catalogue, doing th

"-indicating a gentleman of peculiar appearance in the crowd-"and I have been loo

on, for it. "If I had been taught to think," she said, "when my memory was being burdened with historical anecdotes torn from the text, and other useless scraps of knowledge, I should be able to see both sides of a subject, and judge rationally, now. As it

la was not quite

g about it was that one never knew which side, the pathetic or the humorous, would strike her. Generally, however, it was the one that related least to herself personally. This sel

to say 'Allow me'-in fact, there was no time for anything-and in my hurry I lost my balance and fell in the mud, and the wagon came tearing over me. It was an unpleasant sensation, but I wasn't hurt, you know; neither the wheels nor the horses touched me. I got very dirty, though, and I have no doubt I looked as ridicu

which she had overlooked, of her having risked her life to save the chi

, as I said before, the humorous side of a subject that

ned?" I asked.

nking what a pity it is those gay, pleasure-lov

de to see that there was anything droll in he

friend. A clever drawing by another friend, of Ideala trying to force a cabman to take ten shillings for a half-crown fare- one of the great fears of

id, with a smile that meant something. And then, addressing us all, he asked: "Did I ever

answered, getting very red. "Bu

to be anxio

A lady,' I answered. 'Ladies have no business here. What does she want?' 'She would not say, sir, and she would not send in her name. She said it did not matter.' I began to wonder what I ha

ted by a shout of laughter.

in these words, without any previous preparation to break the blow: 'Mr. Lloyd, can you lend me five shillings?' and before I had recovered she continued-'I came in by train this morning, and I've lost my purse, and can't get back if you won't help m

ain," Ideala murmured; "and he gave me his bank-book to amuse me on the journey, and

see what place she occupied in her own age, and how she stood with regard to the ages that had gone before; yet even this she seemed to have done in a selfless way, having ap

she once said to me. "They all expect me to do something. My function is n

, "I am one of the weary women of the nineteent

be lifted from the oppressed, and the weak defended against great odds, you might be sure that Ideala was busy, and her work could be detected in it all. And she was especially active when efforts were being made to find amusement for the people. "That is what they want, poor things," she would say. "Their lives are such a dreary round of dull monotonous toil, and they have so little sun to cheer them. They ought to be taught to laugh, and have the

physical harm, like mirth; of course, I mean legitimate laughter, not levity, nor the ill-natured rejoicing of small minds in such subjects for sorrow as their neighbours' faults, follies, and mistakes. Wha

d would not take the credit she deserved for them; nor would she have had her good deeds known at all if she could have helped