join till Monsieur D———'s, which is now closed, reopens. This morning, without further preamble, she walked up to me and said—
"'We are the only two English-speaking women here, and I think ought to make friends.'
"I looked surprised, but murmured something, when she continued—
"'I am a good deal older than you, and perhaps may be of some use to you. I understand you are here to study painting.'
"I told her I wished to become a pupil of Monsieur D———'s, but added that as I had nothing but a rough sketch or two with me to show what I could do, I doubted if the master in question would take me as a pupil.
"He is absent from Paris till October. But I have a studio, and am working at some models till the classes are open again. You had better come and do the same. Then, by the time Monsieur D——— returns, you will have something to show him.'
"The offer was a kind one. She must have wondered why I coloured as I accepted it. It was the recollection of what I had written here about her which made me feel ashamed. Really, when I came to talk to her, she was not so ugly, and had such a pleasant way of speaking—so simple and straightforward; but she has a tiresome cough, and looks ill. She told me she came from Maryland, but had been abroad for many years with her invalid mother, who died last summer. Then she joined her brother in Paris. He had been painting here for two years. He was considered one of the most rising of the young American School. I asked what that was? She
