THE PORTRAIT;

OR,

THE WIFE'S JEALOUSY.

"The picture is too calm for me,

Too calm for me,' she said."

MISS BARRETT.

OULD it be possible that it was three weeks since my marriage? We were at the end of our journey, yet I wished it were just commenced. The

carriage rattled over the rough pavements, — the street-lamps flashed brilliantly through the darkness; and the noisy murmur that rose upon the evening air, so unlike the quiet of my mountain home, told me that I was in the heart of the city, near to the mansion in which I was to pass so much of the future. No wonder my heart beat fast, as the roll of wheels was hushed, and that I gazed eagerly through the night to catch the first glimpse of my destined dwelling-place. I could see that the house was large, and I thought there was a gloomy air about it; but this might have been caused by the swaying of the leafless trees, as they moaned in the autumn wind; or perhaps the huge wreath of ivy, that hung heavily from the dark wall. Then I

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turned from the window, for a dear voice whispered, "This is our home, your home, my bird; think you it will be a happy one?"

How could I doubt it, when eyes beaming with deep affection questioned me?-My own gave reply; my heart was too full for words.

A strong arm bore me from the carriage, and shrinking from the chill blast, I did not look up until we stood in the warmly lighted hall. The servants had gathered there to see their new mistress, with the housekeeper at their head. I knew she would be kind to me, the moment my eyes looked upon her motherly face-it was so placid and gentle; but when she came to greet me, I was timid as a child, and clung to my husband's arm, as he gracefully received her congratulations, offered in the name of the household.

"Let Margaret take your wraps," said he, as we entered the parlours. "You must rest a little before tea, and then we'll explore the house together." I yielded a ready assent, — for I was fatigued with the long day's ride,—and sank into the luxurious seat, which he had drawn near to the cheerful grate, arranging the cushions with his own hand. Margaret was very kind and attentive; she looked almost with affection upon Herbert, anticipating his slightest wish, and promoting his comfort in many ways, which, young and thoughtless as I was, I should never have noticed. Then as I marked the mildness and deference with which he replied to her lightest question, I loved him all the more; for my own haughty spirit was rebuked, and almost unconsciously his gentle manner became my own.

It was a happy hour-perchance the happiest in my life - when I went from room to room, leaning upon his arm,

and listening, as he pointed out the many little comforts and elegancies which had been arranged for me; trifles which I had not thought man ever noticed, yet on which home enjoyment in so great a measure depends. Nothing had been forgotten,he was so thoughtful,-so considerate. We lingered at length, in a little apartment opening from the drawing-room, which had pleased me more than any other. It was fitted up as a library, and the recesses were lined with quaintly-carved bookshelves, of some dark, highly-polished wood. On one-apparently a recent addition I found all my favourite authors, -those we had read and studied together, when I first learned how noble was the intellect that had bowed to bestow thought and affection upon me. Low, cushioned chairs, and luxurious lounges were scattered about, and the heavy crimson curtains that excluded the cold, gave a warmth and "coziness to the apartment, that made me feel, for the first time, as if at home.

More than

all, a piano, exactly like the one that had been my own, stood smiling a welcome from its ivory keys, and the songs I had first sung for him were lying beside it. I could almost have cried with joy, it was so like a dear familiar face; and when my husband drew me more closely to his side, and told me his hope that I would not pine in my new home, I felt it was indeed mine, and that his love and care would make it a Paradise. Father,mother,―sisters,—they were all dear, I had been their idol; but as my hand trembled within Herbert's, I felt that I should be amply repaid for all I had given up for him.

Very beautiful were the dear eyes that sought an answer in my own; the forehead was as pure as the noble intellect which it enshrined; the mouth, delicate as a woman's, yet fine in its outline, told of the combined strength and sweetness that so sin

gularly marked his character. A reverence had even mingled with my deep love, for the first flush of youth had passed from his brow, subduing the once brilliant complexion to a delicacy more in accordance with the thoughtful expression which he ever wore, save when he listened and replied to me. There were many years' difference in our ages, but I wondered when I heard it almost sneeringly remarked the morning of our bridal. Could those who jested at that holy hour, have looked into my heart, they could have seen that this added to my devotion; for time had but given dignity to his carriage, and strength to his character. Young and untried as I was, I felt, as I then gave my future happiness to his keeping, that I could not have trusted him so fully, had he not already passed the ordeal of rash impetuous youth.

I could but wonder that ignorant child such as I. maketh the heart humble." But when I saw that, strange as it seemed, it was indeed so, his affection was warm and sincere, I could say, in the words of Zelucoth, "In loving I have not found thee much older or wiser than myself, and I should not quarrel with these few gray hairs, did they not remind me how many years of that love I have lost." There were no threads of silver mingling with the light curls that lay upon Herbert's temples; but they were thinned by deep thought, ay, and by illness. But for this, you would not have dreamed that life's meridian was already attained. Yet knowing his gentleness and forbearance, there were those who prophesied that our marriage would bring unhappiness instead of joy to us both. Not that he was older than myself—that was well, they said—I should have a guide and protector in him; but they croakingly whispered that I was a second

one so gifted, so honoured, loved an Well has it been said "true love

wife; the shadow of the first could rest upon our household. I had known ere we met, that "the friend of his youth was dead". that years had passed since he laid her in the grave, with her babe upon her bosom; and after I had learned to watch for his footsteps hoping that he sometimes thought of me, I listened to the sad story from his own lips. There was not a thought of jealousy in my soul. He had been perfectly candid and truthful; I had required this; and when he spoke of her beauty and loveliness of character, I could not have trusted him, had he not shown a devotion to the memory of one so worthy. I prayed silently that I might be fitted to fill her place, and felt that I should be satisfied with a remnant of the affection so long since given to her.

Not long before our marriage, we had been speaking of her wonderful beauty. "Have you a portrait, or miniature?" said I.

"There was one suspended by my own a few months before her death; it is still in the library, and shall be undisturbed if you choose so: we will look at it together some day." From that time it was constantly in my thoughts.

My friends smiled at what they called my infatuation when I spoke enthusiastically of his first wife, and how devoted Herbert had been to her.

"A strange subject with which to entertain a young bride," said they; but I cared not, for I knew he loved me better that I was childishly petulant as others might have been. It was a pleasure for him to speak freely of the departed, and as I have said before, I thought I should be content with a divided leart.

As we rested in that pleasant little room, the portrait came to my recollection, and I glanced around hastily in search of it. The heavy frame was gleaming from the shades of a recess, but