to Art- Meanwhile, Pembroke Ireton, still estranged "Bessy and Lotty can keep a secret, I suppose?" Exclaimed Mrs. Crawford, as soon as Willy's last good-night was said, smiling and looking as she spoke interrogatively at the two girls. person, a flush rose to her cheek, and turning to her husband, she added: "Edward, will you tell the story as briefly as you can?" "It is a very simple affair," said Mr. Crawford. "Yesterday we were riding on horseback in the Park, when, happening to turn my head, I saw that my groom had stopped for a moment, and was in conversation with a gentleman. I fancied that something was wrong with the horse, and that the stranger had called his attention to it; and as the man galloped on after us the next instant, and, moreover, we met a couple of friends who joined us, the whole thing slipped my memory till this morning, when I received a letter from Mr. Pembroke Ireton. Shall I read it aloud?" As "Pray do" was repeated on every side, he read as follows "SIR-Two years ago, I composed a sketch of a picture illustrative of Tennyson's poem, The Princess, but I have delayed the completion of my design from my inability to find a living realization of the poet's ideal. Feeling convinced that my true model, if discovered at all, would be found among my country women, I last spring visited those places of public resort where beauty and intellect would be likely to congregate, with my search solely in view. One night, at the Opera, I beheld Mrs. Crawford, and from that hour she has been the only Ida in the world for me. She must have sat back in the box during the early part of the evening, for it was only towards the close that I beheld her; and though I made my way to the door as quickly as possible, intending to follow the carriage home, in the crowd and confusion of the occasion she was lost to me. Since then, I have made many inquiries; but, without a clue to her name or abode, how could they be other than fruitless? Latterly, I have stolen an hour from every day's short daylight, with the hope of finding her among the equestrians in our parks; and that I succeeded yesterday, and learned from your servant your name, proves how true was my instinct. Sir, I beseech you, condescend to permit and persuade Mrs. Crawford to sit for my picture. She is the realization of the Princess Ida; I cannot accept any other countenance for her; and if you deny me; I The frequent beautiful smile parted Mrs. must work from that shifting, imperfect Crawford's lips as she observed the manner; memory bequeathed to me by two transient but addressing herself more particularly to glances. For the love of art, do not refuse her parents, she proceeded: Uncle Pem- me; and if to this entreaty I may add another, broke has made our acquaintance without in it is that you will accept from me the finest the least suspecting the relationship. He portrait of Mrs. Crawford that can be painted wants my face for his model in a grand pic- by ture he is painting ;" and then, as if a sudden consciousness came upon her, that she could not describe the circumstances she had to re "Sister, of course we can," replied the younger, answering for both, and seeming by her tone as if the dignity lately acquired by having officiated as bridemaid was tarnished by a doubt being entertained of her discre tion. PEMBROKE IRETON." "Edward, you will not refuse?" exclaimed late without some laudation of her own Mr. Ireton with visible emotion. "Dear Frances, of course you will sit for this picture? | aries brooms and brushes were very sparingly and I foretell that my lonely brother will admitted. The light was actually obscured at last be restored to our knowledge and by the dirtiness of the windows; and I will affection. not hazard a conjecture as to the numberhad their census been taken - of the colony of spiders which brought up their families in peace and security in shady corners and unmolested nooks. "We have forestalled your wishes," said Mr. Crawford," by appointing to-morrow to call on him. How well," he continued, "I remember that night at the Opera! Frances did sit behind my mother, who rebuked us more than once for chattering." "Frances is a little like her namesake, my lost sister," said Mrs. Ireton, after a musing pause; though the likeness is chiefly apparent when she speaks and smiles the tones of her voice are like too. I wonder if Pembroke will trace these resemblances, and waken to the memories of his youth?" II. Pembroke Ireton was accustomed to receive certain connoisseurs of art, and wealthy patrons, which, by the way, he usually did with an air of indifference, that amounted to churlishness; but the visitors whom he was now momentarily expecting, aroused in his mind feelings of delight that were quite new to him. To have a true, perfect, living model for his grand picture, was the realization of one of his dearest hopes; for the man was to all appearance so merged in the Painter, that it seemed as if nothing connected with his merely human life could arouse his sensibilities in a degree to be compared with the influence of circumstances concerning his art. It was a large, roomy house which Pembroke Ireton inhabited, just on the outskirts of the now fashionable part of London. Long ago, in the days of the two first Georges, it had been the scene of many a stately festivity; its wide hall had accommodated the sedan-chair, and its staircases been acquainted with hoops and trains; the spinet and harpsichord had resounded in its chambers, where courtly-powdered beaux, sword-girded and star-blazoned, had moved in solemn minuets, with patched and painted ladies. But all these things belonged to the "long ago" of a past century; the old house had survived many vicissitudes, and, now, for nearly twenty years, had been the abode of a bachelor artist. Not one really comfortable habitable apartment did it contain for Pembroke Ireton, keeping himself apart from all social ties, scarcely knew or remembered the ways of the world; and his two servants, from their forced seclusion and simple routine of duties, had fallen into a sort of lethargic, indolent mode of life, that rendered them, in this busy age, hardly less eccentric than their master. Every room was more or less crowded with pictures, casts, antiquities, draperies, or other adjuncts of the atelier, and into these sanctu It was about noon the high tide, indeed, of December daylight- and Pembroke Ireton was growing impatient, for he had arranged the windows, the chair of state, the easel, and made every preparation for his model, when suddenly a new thought possessed him, and he rang his bell sharply. His one womanservant answered the summons. Hannah was a comely, portly, middle-aged dame when she first entered the artist's service, but time, and the strange life she had led, had changed her to the stooping, crone-like old woman. Hannah had never, in her brightest days, been overburdened with ideas, but she had two strong affections in her heart- one towards her eccentric master, and the other for her brother Timothy, whom, on the strength of his being ten years her junior, she still called a lad, and whom, soon after her own engagement, she recommended for her fellow-servant. "Hannah, what am I to have for dinner to-day?" was the prosaic question the artist asked of his cook and housekeeper. "A steak to-day, sir," she replied; "you had some chops yesterday; and to-morrow is the day for a roast-fowl." "Ah, true, true; but I expect visitors a sitter, to whom I should like to offer some refreshment." "Cake and wine, sir -I can buy a beautiful cake at the pastry-cook?" suggested Hannah. Hang cake and wine! No, I mean some-/ thing dainty, and yet substantial fit to offer to the queen herself." I "Lor', sir, you quite frighten me! have n't cooked a great dinner these twenty years." "And I don't mean, I don't want a great dinner; only something very elegant, and very choice, to be ready about dusk-say, four o'clock. I will give you some money, and you must go the people who supply collations. I don't care what it costs. I cannot stay to talk to you. Didn't you hear a carriage? and there's a knock. Timothy is deaf, I think, not to open the door. And tell him to get the wine from the inner cellarthat tokay that Lord I sent me hock and champagne, and the port that was laid down in '38. Mind, four o'clock; and sweep out the parlor a little if you can. Here, take the money;" and hurrying her out of the room as he put a bank-note into her hand, he added once more: "Never mind what it costs." Possibly the last words were heard by the Surely there is no costume in the world guests, even at their first visit; and when the deepening winter twilight caused him to rest from his labors, and they all descended into the parlor, where, under Hannah's superintendence, the "collation" had been spread, a stranger looking on, would have considered the trio rather a party of old friends than mere acquaintances of a day. Even certain incongruities of the repast made mirth, and wore off formality; for Hannah, however much" on hospitable thoughts intent," had no knowledge of rule and custom to guide her; and though the viands were sufficiently good and abundant to afford an excellent Pembroke Ireton's admiration and delight meal, they were so strangely chosen, that it showed themselves in the flush of his sallow was easier for the host to make a laughing cheek, and in the cordial, grateful greeting apology for his servant's selection, than pass he awarded to his guests. The occasion it by unobserved. But the new friends did seemed so much less connected with the re-not part without the day for another sitting lations of social life than with the circum- being appointed; and Mr. Ireton entreated stances of his art, that he lost, in a great that they would arrange to spend the evenmeasure, the shyness which had for years ing with him afterwards, as he had cerbeen gradually incrusting itself round his manners; while his early good-breeding of course prevented the iteration of personal compliments to Frances, which, after all, would have appeared as inadequate as offensive, coming in the wake of the one great compliment he had paid her. The great picture was to represent that We did not think in our own hall to hear tain curiosities of art he desired much to show them. As the Crawfords finally consented to this proposed plan, after only a faint, formal demurring at such intrusion," they exchanged a glance which showed how mutually they rejoiced at the turn affairs had taken. Pem But the second sitting was more eventful than the first had been. Now, Frances was placed in the exact pose required for the great picture; and to complete the effect, a light drapery was thrown over her velvet robe, and fastened after the antique style on the shoulder. For this purpose, Pembroke Ireton selected from his stores a rare cameo, to which belonged a history. It was one of the undoubted works of Benvenuto Cellini, and had been nearly from his day in the possession of a noble French family, whose last descendant, fleeing from the guillotine in the Reign of Terror, had rescued it, with some other valuables, to prove his means of existence in exile. broke Ireton purchased the brooch at great Her falser self slipt from her like a robe. cost from the collector, who had received it But while the painter seemed lost in the from the noble exile's own hand; and this delight of his self-appointed task, his visitors matchless head of Minervafor such it repwere contemplating him with an interest he resented -had, independently of the stamp little suspected. Beneath the calm flow of of its own beauty, an authentic pedigree of its an easy, chatty discourse, his unknown niece possessors. Perhaps to gratify the taste of and her husband saw more than once into some belle of the eighteenth century, it had the depths of his nature. When Mrs. Craw-been gorgeously set round with brilliants; ford first spoke, there was a startled glance but though these were included in the price from Pembroke Ireton's eye; and after he which Pembroke Ireton cheerfully paid for had grown familiar with her voice, he more the brooch, he had ruthlessly broken them than once heaved a quiet sigh after she had away, leaving his treasure in its original been speaking. Again, when Mr. Crawford chaste simplicity. addressed his wife by her Christian name, there was an evidence they having, as it were, the key to the cipher by which it was betrayed that told of a memory not dead, but sleeping. Very sociable grew the painter and his Very earnest and very honest were Mr. and Mrs. Crawford's expressions of admiration of this exquisite work, and they were discriminating expressions too, so that the painter felt that his guests understood what they praised; and his pale cheek flushed and his eye sparkled with pleasure as this sympathy wonder at this, my sweet young friend: it is declared itself. the brain that paints, not the eye and the hand." "I By this time the dusty cobweb-festooned parlor had been something more than "swept But Frances was overcome by a deeper emoout." Pembroke Ireton had felt the incon- tion than wonder. That same perilous jourgruity of entertaining his beautiful guest in a ney of early life which had laid the foundation lumber-room, and had taken care that needful of her father's affliction, had similarly affected renovations and preparations should be made; the twin brother; and thus that apparently and, on this second occasion, it was with inseparable pair, whom yet strange circumevery appointment of elegance and comfort stances had divided, seemed still to be mystethat the trio sat down to their repast. Now, riously united by a common misfortune. a party of three, where two of the number am not wondering," she replied, trying to are a really united married pair, while enjoy- speak calmly; "I am only sorrowing, and ing the ease and confidence of close compan- thinking of a strange coincidence. My own ionship, are usually more animated and con- dear father is blind- thus afflicted in conseversational even than a tête à tête pair. Thus, quence of a similar accident to yours-being merely as a pleasant, social meeting, this sec- lost in the snows of Switzerland when travelond sitting was to be marked with white in the ling in his youth in search of grand scenery. calendar; but after dinner, when the bright fire, and the soft lamplight, and the presence of his guests, threw a home-charm around Pembroke Ireton, to which he was little accustomed, his nature seemed to melt, and his voice modulated to a tone, as if to speak his long pent-up emotions were become a necessity to him. How strange !" mused the painter. "You must know him," continued Frances in trembling tones: "you are formed to be friends, companions to each other. Ah, you must know my father; he, too, loved Art most dearly.' "And now?" asked Pembroke Ireton. "He is happy, though blind," returned the "Not unless I tell you a heavy secret," he daughter, with a sort of cruel kindness toexclaimed, addressing Frances," can you esti-wards her hearer. "happy, because our mate my gladness at discovering you, or my love, that seemed before too vast for increase, gratitude for your compliance with my wishes." still grew as his sight waned; and the wealth "I feel it an honor," replied Mr. Crawford, of the heart outweighs the wealth of the "that Frances should be immortalized by so senses. It seems to me a beautiful dispensagreat a painter. Dear sir, never mention tion of Providence, that this heavy affliction gratitude again!" has fallen where every surrounding circumstance lightens and alleviates it. Had my father been lonely and childless, how much more terrible would have been his lot!" There was a minute's silence. With the. morbid sensitiveness of a recluse, and the keen perception of one who, if only for the purposes of his art, had been accustomed to anatomize the passions, Pembroke Ireton shrank from a display that might have brought about "a scene. "Stifled sobs made thick his breathing, and assuaging tears were rising to his eyes, but he controlled these evidences of emotion, and suddenly, and with a sort of set phrases, changed the discourse. "Your father must indeed be a happy man," he exclaimed with forced calmness," despite his bereavement; yet had I known, dear madam, that my selfish outpourings would have led to this sorrowful subject, indeed I would have refrained." Nay," replied Frances, "not wholly sorrowful to me; and is not sympathy, warm sympathy, a consolation to you?" "I am not sure-perhaps not. Do not think me ungrateful; but I will not speak of my own trouble again. A little more wine, Mrs. Crawford; pray, half a glass, and let me prepare an orange for you. A resolute host can always give the tone to conversation, and whatever were Pembroke Ireton's faults, want of resolution was not one these rushed through Frances Crawford's heart, and seemed well-nigh to deprive her of speech; all she could utter was, in a trembling voice, this strange rejoinder: "You will dine with us on Christmas-day, to meet papa?" of them. Thus he once more drew round the | to win for himself independence, has yet never "So valuable a gift!" exclaimed Frances. "Indeed, you do me too much honor, are too generous; how can I accept it?" "O yes, of course, with pleasure," replied the artist; but the changes which passed across the beautiful face he had studied that day for hours could not be unobserved by him, and though without a suspicion of the truth, his curiosity was aroused, and he said smiling: "May I ask who your father is? Perhaps an old acquaintance, or some patron of art, whom I ought to know? I need hardly say, I asked no question of your groom save your name and address." "I must appeal to you, Mr. Crawford," returned the painter, "to use your influence, There was again a pause, the painter wonand not to disappoint me. I know no one else dering what could have occurred to cause the worthy to wear such a gem.' agitation he perceived; yet, amid all, congrat"It is a magnificent gift," replied Mr. Craw-ulating himself at having caught a new ex ford," and it would be churlish indeed to re- pression for his Ida. Pardon me," he fuse the acceptance of it. Yet you lay us under deep obligation.' "I am obliged," said Ireton, passing the cameo to Frances. "I can funcy it is sentient enough to know that it has only now found its true mistress." "If I wear it though," said Frances, holding forth her hand, and grasping that of the artist very warmly, "it must be on a condition." "Any that you please." Only, that you dine with us on Christmasday, to meet dear papa ;" and Frances smiled as only the Ida could. 66 "You are most kind; I shall be proud and happy. But, ah me!" continued the artist, I had nearly forgotten: you must have the stones that belong to the brooch, in case you prefer the settings; I do not: perhaps you will like them, though, for a ring or a clasp, and they are utterly useless to me;" and while he was speaking, the artist pulled out the drawer of a cabinet, in which, among ends of string and sealing-wax, old coins, steel-pens, worn pencils, bits of India-rubber, and heaps of other heterogeneous refuse, there rolled about some twenty or thirty large diamonds of the finest water. continued, “if I have given pain: if this is to be an acted charade, I can await the solution." "We meant it so," said Frances; "but I find I cannot act out my part. Ah, you have promised, and you will not recant?" "The name!" asked Ireton, still smiling, for the fancy possessed him that it was some rival painter whom he was to meet, and towards whom rumor had fabricated some story of jealousy or envy. "William Ireton!" said Frances very softly, yet looking, though timidly, at her uncle as she spoke. His eyes drooped beneath her gaze, and he sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. The sobs that once before that evening had been stifled, refused again to be driven back, and the_large_tears dropped through his fingers. Even Edward Crawford's manly spirit was moved, but he felt himself powerless to act in the drama which was going forward. Frances, too, was weeping freely now, but not tears of sorrow. She approached her uncle, and moving his hands from his face, as she stooped over him, printed a gentle, loving kiss upon one of them. Her action broke the spell of coldness and restraint. Pembroke Ireton wound his arms Frances Crawford was used to costly orna- round his young relative, drew her tight to ments and elegant attire, and had diamonds his heart, and kissed her cheek with parental of great price in her jewel-box at home; fondness. All he said was: "And you must therefore, it was not acquisition of the gems be my child henceforth- always." now offered to her that touched her heart or It was enough. Frances laughed amid her affected her to tears. But she instinctively own April tears, and wiped away those of felt that, despite his early errors, this her uncle herself, parting the thin locks which estranged uncle had a fine nature, for no nook had fallen over his forehead, as she might or cranny of it enshrined a meanness. And have done the rich tresses of a pet child. it is surely one test of nobility, when a man Oh, how these gestures of tenderness went to approaches fifty, and having had the discretion the heart of the lonely man, who had once |