had occurred on that far-away island in the St. Lawrence.
He broached the subject that the architect had gone for good, narrowly watching Jessie's pretty face as he told her.
"Oh! I am so sorry," she declared, disappointedly, "for he was such a nice young man; and in his spare moments he had promised to teach me to sketch;" and her lovely face clouded.
"Would not I do as well?" asked Hubert Varrick, gently, as his hand closed over the little white one so near his own.
The girl trembled beneath his touch. In that one moment her heart went from her, and she experienced the sweet elysium of a young life just awakening to love's bewildering dream.
"Would I not make as good a teacher?" repeated Varrick, softly; and he bent his dark, handsome head, looking earnestly into the girl's flushed
