approaching to dissipation. He bade me think of the moral degradation which he had undergone-the humiliating consciousness that a highly endowed mind and cultivated intellect had been bowed before the debasing influence of dissipation, until he was the mere wreck of his former self. 'Think my son,' he would say, 'what I must have undergone, when I, who had been nurtured among the refinements of polished society, could accept the employment of slave-driver to any man, and feel thankful that bodily strength is left me to attend to my duties faithfully.' "We had been in Cuba but two years when he died, and was followed within a few hours by my mother. My uncle is a humorist-he has managed in a moneymaking country to keep clear of the mania of trade or speculation. He lives on the small property which he inherited from his father-it suffices for his few wants; and he has invited me to come and reside with him. You will be a daughter to him, my sweet Lucile, while I will endeavor to show my gratitude by every means in my power, for enabling me to win you from your loftier prospects to share my destiny." "Be assured that no effort shall be wanting on my part to contribute to the happiness of your uncle," said Lucile: "I will be as a daughter to him in duty and affection." CHAPTER X. "And for their loves? Behold the seal is on them!" "Did I but purpose to embark with thee On the smooth surface of the summer sea?" Their voyage was prosperous, and they safely landed in Philadelphia. After establishing Lucile and her attendant at a hotel, Grey proceeded to look for the abode of his uncle. It was soon found, as the methodical old gentleman had given him the most particular information as to his 'whereabouts' in the city, but on inquiring at the door for Mr. Martin Grey, to his great concern he was informed that his uncle had been seized with a fit of apoplexy a few days before, which had proved fatal, and he had that morning been consigned to the dust. His informant added, that some gentlemen were now in his room, reading his will and putting seals on his property. "Go in and inform them, if you please, that his nephew has just arrived from Cuba, and would be glad to be present at the opening of the will." The woman went in, and immediately returned with a gentleman who introduced himself as Mr. McFile, the legal adviser of his deceased relative. He invited Grey to follow him, and in a few moments they were in his late uncle's apartment, which was occupied by three other gentlemen. They all wore the most lugubrious expression of countenance as they shook the nephew of their lost friend by the hand, with the most sympathetic expressions on the great loss the country, and they in particular, had sustained in the defunct Mr. Grey. estimation in which his deceased uncle had been held, he could not still the fearful whisper which came to his heart, that this relative whom he had never known might in his last days have repented of his intended generosity, and left him destitute. His forebodings were too quickly verified. The will was at last opened, and to his utter consternation the slow, monotonous voice of the lawyer read over an instrument, dated but a few days back, by which he bequeathed all his possessions to a certain benevolent society, to be appropriated to the erection of a church for the use of the German emigrants to the United States. "There are a few lines below, written by my friend's own hand, which concern you, Mr. Grey. Shall I read them to you?" "If you please, sir," said Sidney bowing. He then read the following words. "To my nephew, Sidney Grey, I had intended to bequeath all my property; but learning from himself that he was about to commit the romantic absurdity of marrying a girl who has been reared in idleness and extravagance, merely because she has the most fleeting of all charms, beauty; and at the same time robbing his patron of his daughter; to show my utter disapprobation of such a proceeding, I hereby cut him off with one shilling, with which he may go and buy a rope wherewith to hang himself, for the mad freak of which he has been guilty will soon leave him no other alternative." There was a pause of some seconds, which Grey interrupted by rising and bowing to the gentlemen as he said "As there can be no farther need of my presence here, gentlemen, I will bid you a good morning. I had anticipated a very different meeting here to-day, but fate has otherwise ordered it, and I must submit. I shall not interfere in any way with the settlement of the estate. Good morning to you." "A clever young fellow," remarked one, as the door closed on him; "and uncommonly fine-looking. Well I'm sorry for his disappointment, and think our friend had better have left something to the poor young things to commence housekeeping with. It's likely he's very poor, for I've heard my late respected friend say that he was educated by that West India planter, whose daughter has eloped with him. Well, if charity did not begin at home, I believe I could find it in my heart to hunt him up, and try and find something for him to do." "Do not give yourself that trouble, I beg," said a tall, noble looking man, with a slight inflexion of contempt in his voice. "If Mr. Grey's appearance does not belie his character, he shall not want a friend while I can assist him. I regret exceedingly that I neglected to ask him for his address. I shall seek him before night, and offer him such services as one stranger may without offence proffer to another." "Well-well-let it be so-you can afford to be gene rous." The man who thus spoke was a bachelor, with a clear income of some thousands, but without one spark of generosity, except at the expense of others, in his heart. The second speaker was one of the most successful merchants in the city, and had risen to the station he "A man of ten thousand," murmured one. "Ah yes-so benevolent-so kind-hearted," chimed in another. "The voice of distress was never unheed-occupied by his own energy and integrity: his resied." And thus they chorused the praises of their lost friend, until Sidney became impatient for them to proceed to business, for however gratifying the high dence was one of the most splendid on Chesnut street, and he was surrounded by a young and lovely family; but amid his present prosperity he did not forget his own early struggles, and the promptings of benevo- dozen paintings not entirely completed, which canlence were never unheeded. not bring me into notice without patronage of some kind." He had been deeply interested by the appearance of Grey, and his imagination rapidly sketched the pro- "Your genius shall raise you up friends and patrons bable sufferings which would result from the disap-when you least expect it," said she playfully; "for the pointment he had that morning experienced; his wish present, I am fortunately richer than you, and our uniwas to obviate them as far as possible, but his benevo- ted funds will support us very respectably until you lent intentions were frustrated. He spent the remain- have time to become known and appreciated. 'Faint der of the day in driving from hotels to boarding-heart never won fair lady,' as the old adage goes-so houses in vain. There had been such a gentleman at the United States Hotel for a few hours in the morning, but he had departed at twelve o'clock no one knew whither; and baffled in his search, Mr. Edmonds was ""Prithee look no more so pale, But list a new hope when the old doth fail.'" "Who would refuse to listen to the whispers of hope compelled to return home without accomplishing his when breathed in such a voice as thine, and enforced benevolent intentions. with such a smile?" Lucile opened the dressing case and gave him the gold, which had been her father's last gift. "Here," she continued, "are my jewels. They are not of great value, considering that I was the heiress to such vast wealth as my father possessed; but such duced to the necessity of parting with them." as they are, they may become a resource to us if re Stunned, bewildered by the unexpected occurrences of the morning, Sidney mechanically retraced his steps to the hotel, though when there he shrank from communicating to Lucile the misfortunes which had met him in the very outset of his career. All the accumulated difficulties of his situation stood in vivid array before him,-a stranger in a strange land, with but few dollars left after his travelling expenses were all paid-tend," said Grey fervently. "No, dearest-your jewels May heaven avert such distress as that would porwith no knowledge of business-possessing only a few paintings, whose merit he well knew was not sufficient- must remain untouched so long as any other means of subsistence are within my reach. In the meantime the ly striking to attract purchasers-with a newly wedded sum before us will suffice until I become acquainted wife, dependent on him for support. He felt that her here." brief sunshine of happiness was over-the darkened days had already commenced. "As you please," replied Lucile. "We must seek boarding in a less expensive house than this, and perhaps the keeper of the house will employ Agnes, and thus allow her to gain a support for herself without being separated from me?" "You cannot do without her services, my love. What would become of you, with your creole habits, without some one to wait on you? These delicate hands do not look as if they could accomplish much. No-no-you must not part with Agnes." His intention had been to accept the home offered him by his uncle, while he diligently pursued the cultivation of his art, and by the study of the few fine paintings within his reach, correct as far as possible the defects of a self-formed and imperfect style. In the meantime, a portion of his attention he designed to give to portrait painting; and the resources thus obtained were to be devoted to the purpose of raising | a fund to convey him to Italy-the land of his dreams"Oh, I can learn to wait on myself; and I think it the wished for haven to which all the aspirations of his would be positive injustice to Agnes to keep her with soul pointed. After a struggle for composure, he en-me, while I am unable to pay her the wages her sertered the room where Lucile was eagerly expecting him. "Here you are at last, dear Sidney-I thought you would never return, my impatience has been so great to hear from your uncle. How is he? What said he? Was he pleased to see you? Tell me all in a word." "It is soon told," said Sidney mournfully. "The old man is dead, and we are friendless." He then proceeded to relate what he had learned. Lucile listened in silence: she saw at a glance the full extent of the calamity which had befallen them-though he concealed from her that he owed the loss of his uncle's property to her consent to become his bride; but her spirit rose to meet the evil, and she looked on the fu- | ture with an unquailing eye. vices can command-and I know the faithful creature too well to believe that she would receive money from me which she saw I needed myself. So, dear Sidney, allow me to arrange this matter if you please." "Well-as you will, my dear little wife. Why, from whence did you obtain all this stock of wisdom, ma belle ?" Lucile blushed and smiled. "It has been taught me, I suppose, by my affection for one who possessed few of the gifts of fortune. I can make any sacrifice, Sidney, sooner than suffer you to abandon the art to which your soul has so fondly clung from boyhood, to gain a pittance in some other occupation, in order to shield me from a few privations which my mind is fully prepared to encounter. Let us not despond-for believe me, I would not be elsewhere than by thy side; and heaven never linked two hearts in as pure a bond as ours, without pointing out to them the pathway which would lead them to happiness." "Your faith is a consolatory one, Lucile, and I will e'en trust to it. My regrets are not for myself, but for you. I fondly anticipated bringing you to a comfort "Poverty is not the worst of ills, dear Sidney, as I well know," said she. "We are now entirely dependent on our own resources, and no false pride should prevent either of us from doing what is necessary to secure an independence however humble. I have contemplated the possibility of disapppointment, and weighed the probable consequences of an union with you before I consented to link my fate with yours-able home, where no harrassing anxiety and uncertainty therefore, my mind is not entirely unprepared for the difficulties which we are likely to encounter. Let us calmly examine our situation, and the extent of our resources-then decide our future course." for the future should dim a ray of your beauty, and the disappointment is proportionably severe.” "Think not of me. If you could look into my heart, and see there the happiness it gives me to be near you, "I have but fifty dollars in the world, and some half with the consciousness that death alone can sever me from your side, you would indulge in no fears for my future peace." In addition to his other sources of uneasiness, he began to fear for his health. During the winter he had suffered excessively from the cold weather, and a severe "Noble-admirable girl! I knew thee not till now! No lot can be dark which is brightened by such affec-pain in his breast had frequently compelled him to lay tion." With a light heart, Grey proceeded to make his arrangements. He went into the bar-room, and looked over the numerous cards which adorned the walls; and after making a few inquiries of the bar-keeper, his selection of a boarding-house was soon made. He then called for a carriage, and driving to a retired street in the city, found the domicile of Mrs. Patton, a neat and unpretending mansion, in which he engaged rooms that promised to be very pleasant. Within two hours from that time Lucile was established in her apartment, the windows of which looked out on a green and shaded walk, which reminded her of the verdure of her own sunny land. Some months elapsed, and Lucile would have been perfectly happy, but for the continued silence of her father. She had not believed it possible that he could remain callous to her appeals. She still continued to write regularly, though the hope of forgiveness had almost faded from her mind: yet she had not repented her clandestine marriage. How could she repent, when the affection of Grey never slumbered? If he saw the faintest shadow on her brow, he would not leave her side until it was dispelled. Grey had formed a few acquaintances among men of his own profession, and several of them had visited his studio. Their criticisms on the productions of his pencil were valuable to him, as they enlightened him yet more on the utter impossibility of a young and unknown artist, imperfectly trained in his profession, making any progress in public favor, until years of intense study and unwearied industry had given their last polish to his labors, and the question frequently recurred to him, how was he to exist in the meantime? Already was their pittance nearly exhausted, and he saw before him no means of replenishing his little store. In vain had he placed a sign on the most conspicuous part of his window bearing in goodly-sized letters the words, "Sidney Grey, Portrait Painter," and filled up the lower part of the sash with two of his best heads. The children and servants of the neighborhood admired and criticised them each day, but they brought no "human face divine” to the artist, to transmit to posterity, in all the glory which white lead and vermilion can bestow. Many times did his spirit faint within him, and his hand fall nerveless by his side, as the possibility of failing in his efforts presented itself to his mind; and if such were his doom, to what a destiny had he chained the being, whose affection had been the solitary flower in his sterile path! aside his pencil for days at a time. Yet all this was studiously concealed from Lucile; and when she expressed her fears that he was not as well as usual, he would seek to re-assure her by assuming an air of gaiety, and rallying her for indulging in such fancies. Late in the spring he completed a fancy piece repreunder the shelter of a tree, endeavoring to regain her She was standing senting a gipsy girl in a storm. bonnet which the wind had whirled among the lower branches; and in the oriental style of her beauty-the dark dilating eyes, and lustrous hair, might be traced a striking resemblance to Lucile. She smilingly remarked it. "I saw you once in the same attitude," he replied, "and in truth that suggested to me the idea of the picture." Through the interest of one of his friends, he procured a place for it in the public exhibition of pictures. The painter, unknown to all, mingled in the crowd and heard the strictures on what he considered his chef d'œuvre. "What a glorious head," said a connoisseur with his blackened tube placed to his eye. "I do not know who could have executed it. I have never before seen such spiritual beauty in any face." "Ah," thought the lover husband, “the original is yet more lovely than that;" and he fancied the radiant smile with which his return would be greeted, and mentally repeated the celebrated remark of the English statesman, that "the best part of beauty is what a portrait can never express." But his attention was recalled to the answer which was made to the first speaker. "Yes-as you say, the head is glorious, but the rest of the picture is not at all in keeping. It is wonderful that the same hand should have executed both. The picture wants perspective, and the foreshortening of the arm is defective, the hand is good enough-nay uncommonly good, for a young artist, and me just now that this picture was executed by a young man from Cuba. He possesses uncommon genius, but his faults are many and glaring. The drapery is in very bad taste." told "True-but those flowers growing at the feet of the figure, and that sandalled foot, are exquisite. The painter has studied from nature alone, and where he has imitated her, he is unrivalled. A year or two in Italy would render him master of his art." They passed on, and another group occupied the space in front of the gipsy. "A mere daub," drawled a fashionable exquisite. "Look at those folds-there is no grace-no elegance about them." "But surely, there is beauty enough in the face to compensate for that defect," said a young girl, with a bright ingenuous countenance, who leaned on his arm. "No,-Miss Wilmere, you mistake. The drapery of a figure is to a picture what fashion is to beautywithout it 'tis nothing. The man that painted that thing had better follow the example of that—a--awhat's his name-in the Disowned ?-go and burn his picture, brushes and all, and 39 VOL. IV.-91 "And after giving up the art to which he has dedicated his life, I suppose he may die as the poor Werner did, 'unwept, unhonored, and unsung?' unless perchance he has an old parent, or a beloved wife to weep over the fate of the gifted. Ah, you little know the unmitigated anguish your words might have conveyed to the soul of the artist, had he heard them and believed you to be a true Mecænas. "Really you are quite eloquent." "Shall I tell you the reason?" said she. "I know something of the history of the painter-nay have seen him once at a distance. I am now having my portrait taken, and Westfield is well acquainted with Mr. Grey. He conjectures that his circumstances are not good, and he describes him as possessing more of the true spirit of genius-more enthusiasm for his art, than any one he has ever known. He is very young, and has a wife whom all agree in describing as the most beautiful of women. I should have called on her, but was told that both appeared to shrink from society, and she is seldom seen abroad until late in the evening, when she generally walks with her husband. If my papa will consent, I intend purchasing this picture with all its defects." The gentleman shrugged his shoulders. "You will soon have a fine collection, if you intend listening to every romantic story that is told you about these painters, and patronize them because they happen to be poor, and have pretty wives." "Those are not exactly my intentions," said the lady, "but 'tis useless to endeavor to make you understand them; for they and myself, must ever be to you as a sealed book." And they passed on. As various as the characters who uttered them, were the comments made on the picture, and Grey returned home wearied and out of spirits. The next morning as he sat beside his easel, with scarce resolution sufficient to make an effort at completing the piece before him, a knock at his door aroused him, and an elderly gentleman entered, accompanied by the same young lady he had seen at the exhibition the day before. The old gentleman presented his card. "Mr. Wilmere-and this is my daughter, Mr. Grey." Sidney bowed; and after examining and admiring the various pieces that surrounded the room, Mr. Wilmere informed him that he had called, at the earnest request of his daughter, to purchase of him the picture of the gipsy girl, to which she had taken a great fancy. The price was named-the money placed in his hands, and both father and daughter departed with many expressions of good will toward the artist. "I will never again despair,” thought he as he placed the money in his desk. “I must now seek Lucile, and describe this noble-hearted girl to her." A few days afterward a lady called on him to paint her portrait. It was the first call of the kind, and he soon learned that he was indebted to the same source for this patronage. "Miss Wilmere," said she," has shown me a fancy piece, painted by you, and she assures me that the connisheers say the head is quite the perfectibility of beauty." "Mr. Grey, I wish you, in the first place, to paint my daughter and I have brought you a picture of her taken before she died." “You merely wish a copy then, madam ?” "No-not exactly a copy," continued Mrs. Brown, drawing a small picture, done in crayon, from her reticule. It represented a girl of about fifteen with her hair folded back from her temples, simply twisted and confined with a small comb. The features were very ordinary, and Grey wondered if the mother expected him to take a correct likeness from the slight sketch before him; but he soon found that she expected even more than that. "I wish you, Mr. Grey, to paint my child from that, but give her a little more of the look of a woman, and put her hair up in the fashion. I cannot consent to have it drawn back from her forehead in that frightful manner. I should like to have it in ringlets." "But surely, madam, no picture can be to you a resemblance of your daughter that is made to look some years older, and to alter the whole cast of the countenance by dressing the hair in a different style." "Oh, as to that, I'm not particular, so it's a pretty picture, and looks fashionable. It looks well to have one's family portraits, and as my daughter died before we moved here, it doesn't signify whether it's a likeness or not, so it's pretty. Nobody 'll be none the wiser about it's being a good likeness or a bad one, except ourselves, and we can keep our own counsel." "Very well, ma'am. I think I can please you," said Grey. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, for I've been hesitating about sending over to London to have both her's and mine properly painted; but 'tis such a trouble, that I'm glad to get it done here." "Yes, madam: a voyage across the ocean, merely to have a portrait painted, would be rather tedious." Deary me-deary me! you don't suppose I was going across the seas myself, risking my life in the terrible storms that take place and all for a picture that could be done without me?" "I did not understand you, madam," said Sidney, in some surprise. "I thought you wished a likeness of yourself, and of course presumed that you would wish to sit to the artist that it might be as correct as possible. "And so I do want my picture,” said the lady, with some asperity. "And I guess it can be imported as well as Mr. Brown's goods. It will come to order, I suppose, as his credit's good on that side of the water as well as this. I can send 'em word what sort of a face I have, and the color of my eyes and hair, and they can paint me, and put a dress on like the print of the last fashions, and I shall be very well satisfied." Mrs. Grey listened in silent wonder: he instantly perceiv ed the sort of character he had to deal with. Brown was one of the vulgar rich—ignorant, fond of show, and by the acquisition of wealth elevated to a position in society which she had not been educated to fill. Her blunders were a source of amusement to the society in which she had been transplanted; and knowing that she was liberal in her expenditures, Miss Wilmere had suggested to her the propriety of employing Grey to execute the long talked of portraits. With renewed hope, Grey set to work the following morning, with Mrs. Brown by his side, watching the progress of his pencil; but before the pictures were half completed, he felt that the sum which was to be paid for them would be hard earned. Her daughter she first wished him to paint as a ture has gifted her. Depend on it he was not allowed to be faithful in his delineation of our hostess, and I should never have recommended her to him had I not believed him to be in reduced circumstances, and thought her money would be as acceptable to him as that of any other person." Miss Wilmere was absent four months, and when she returned, she had not forgotten her promise. She sought the abode of Grey, but was informed by the landlady that about a month before that time, he had left her house, and she could not inform her whither he had removed. "He got very little to do, ma'am," said Mrs. Patton, "and I'm afraid all his money was pretty nigh exhaust Hebe. A spirited sketch was soon drawn, but in the meantime the good lady happened to meet with an antiquated copy of the Children of the Abbey, and, strange to relate, that romantic story, which has drawn fountains of tears from young misses over the senti- | mental misfortunes of Miss Amanda Malvina Fitzallen, had never before fallen into her hands. The description of the portrait of the heroine's mother captivated her fancy, and the Hebe must be changed to a shepherdess so soon as the brush of the artist could accomplish the metamorphosis. After various alterations, he succeeded in completing a very pretty fancy piece, the principal figure in which resembled any one else as much as the person for whom it was designed. However, the mother was satisfied, and it was sented before he left me; for he was very low-spirited at home to adorn the walls of the newly furnished parlor; and that of the lady herself was commenced. Here Sidney found his difficulties increased ten-fold, for in spite of the evidence of her glass, Mrs. Brown persisted in thinking that she was still quite young enough to make a very fine picture; and her style of dress was fantastic to the last degree. In vain did Grey remonstrate-in vain did his good taste revolt from painting a figure tricked out in a style which might have rivalled the broadest caricature of the fashions: Mrs. Brown carried the day, and she was represented seated on a sofa, attired in a gown of scarlet velvet, with rings, chains and brooches innumerable, disposed about her comfortable person. He labored at first to make the likeness as striking as possible, but in this he was likewise baffled by the vanity of the woman: "this feature must be softened another more rounded-the eyes lacked brilliancy-the lips were a little too thick,"-in short he found himself compelled to make her portrait as little like the original as that of her daughter. The day on which they were completed was a joyful one to him. That evening Mrs. Brown gave a large party, and the pictures were severely criticised by those who pretended to know any thing of painting. Caroline Wilmere was there, and her praises excited the irritability of an old gentleman who considered himself an indisputable judge, as he had once spent six weeks in Europe, had visited the Parisian gallery twice, and remained an hour each time. "That a likeness! my dear Miss Wilmere," said he, scornfully pointing to the luckless shepherdess; "why you may as well tell me the engraving on my snuff box was designed for you, as that thing there for Kitty, or (as her mother has refined the name) Miss Kittina Brown. She was Brown in color as well as name-dumpy and pug-nosed. That figure is graceful, and the face is almost beautiful. Pooh-pooh! this protegé of your's may paint very pretty fancy pieces, but a likeness he never can accomplish. If proof were wanting of that you need only look at the mother, and see what a ridiculous looking figure he has made of her, without the slightest resemblance to the original." "Well, we will not dispute about it," said Miss Wilmere, good humoredly smiling-"I am going to the springs to-morrow, and shall be absent all summer, but when I return I will have my portrait taken again to convince you that my protegé, as you call him, can succeed in taking a likeness of one who is willing to be painted with only the share of beauty which na times. His health wasn't as good as it had been: the cold weather last winter seemed to be very hard on him, for he had a cough all the time, and his wife, poor thing, appeared to be miserable about him. I've many a time seen her start and turn pale when she heard that hollow cough, and my heart ached for her." Miss Wilmere was deeply interested by this recital. "Are you sure, madam, you can obtain no clue to their present residence?" she inquired. "I do not think it will be easy to do so, but I can make the effort. When they came to me, they had a colored girl with them, who had been freed by Mrs. Grey's father, but she would not consent to leave her young mistress. I gave her employment until about a week before they left me, and she then hired herself in another part of the city, though she came every night to see Mrs. Grey. I sometimes see her, and perhaps she will inform me where they now are." "I shall be much obliged to you, madam, to make the inquiry, as it may be in my power to render some services to Mr. Grey and his lady." "Rely on me, my dear Miss Wilmere. I will do all in my power to discover them, for I have never seen strangers with whom I was more pleased." All the exertions of the good Mrs. Patton, were, however, unavailing. She saw Agnes no more; and every clue to the 'whereabouts' of her late boarders appeared to be forever lost. [To be concluded in the December number.] TO CAROLINE. WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM. I would not say that thou art fair, dear girl, E. N. |