For a few moments Anna pondered upon the contents of this note; but it was a case, which to a generous mind, admitted of no hesitation, and she gave her full and free consent to wait upon her Ladyship, at any time she might appoint.

And then arose the dreadful mistrust of her own qualifications, with a horror of the nervous invalid, and the torturing anxiety which such an operation must inflict, both upon the performer and upon the patient, or rather the impatient. These however, are agonies which none but the portrait painter can imagine; for the heartless herd of lookers on, who can remark with indifference that they do not catch the likeness, after turning it into every possible direction; or who burst into peals of admiration at their own discernment, on discovering a resemblance to some face as unlike that of the sitter, as if, in attempting a greyhound, you had painted a toad, know not what whithering anguish is shooting through every bone and sinew of the poor artist, as he (or more unfortunately she) sits looking imploringly at the subject of her performance, to see whether patience has really doled out her last minute of mispent time.

They mean no harm-they know not what they do but the emptying their coffers at the feet of the painter, would be a poor remuneration for the torture they inflict.

A few mornings after this, Anna received an early summons to appear at the Hall. With trembling knees, and throbbing heart, she entered the apartment, which had been carefully prepared by Lady Langley's orders and then with what confidence she could command, busied herself in arranging the window-shutters, placing her easel, and making ready her own simple apparatus; while a well-stuffed invalid chair, covered with crimson damask, and a rich ottoman, standing near it, gave alarming indication of the state and dignity of its future occupant.

Having finished all her preparatory work, she was glancing from her brushes to her blank canvas, and wondering what kind of

figure would fill the vacant chair, when Lady Langley hurried in, exclaiming with breathless delight, "He is coming, I declare, quite of his own accord, and in the best humour imaginable!"

Anna looked round, and saw the tall figure of a man, wrapped in a purple cloak, whose rich lining of crimson velvet was not able to impart the slightest glow of health or warmth to his countenance-a countenance that well might have puzzled Lavater, calling forth his ecstatic smiles, and no less frequent tears.

Lord Carrisbrooke was much above the common height of ordinary men; and an unusually fine forehead, over which a profusion of raven hair, added to something of aristocratical dignity in his manner, made him look taller than he really was. His hair was slightly silvered about the temples, but so gently, that the white touches seemed only to be a part of the gloss by which its intense blackness was relieved. His eyebrows were dark and regular, and finely arched over eyes which had once been bright and beautiful; while a high and commanding nose, thin lips, and noble chin, formed the outline of the face which Anna had engaged to study, hour after hour, yet whose varying and doubtful expression seemed to set all study at defiance.

Lady Langley did her best to place her brother comfortably in his chair; and then, after bustling to and fro a few times from him to the artist, and back again from the artist to him, said something about her melons and her garden, and hurried out of the room.

With a countenance of despair, Anna watched the door as it closed after her ladyship; while Lord Carrisbrooke, as soon as he had ascertained that she was really gone, drew his cloak around him, let down his dark brows, and fixed upon his innocent companion such a look of terrific scrutiny as few women could have borne. Anna, however, suspecting it was only a trial of her self-possession, went on as well as she was able, when Lord Carrisbrooke addressed her in a hollow and constrained voice, assuring her that he

"Since your lordship appears determined to frustrate, instead of facilitating, the performance of a task which I have undertaken as a painful duty,—a task which would not, under any circumstances, be agreeable to me, I must decline making any further attempt; and will therefore, with your lordship's permission, inform Lady Langley that the portrait is given up."

The inquisitor was completely at a loss what to make of all this; a blush, a giggle, or a simper, was what he had expected to produce. The blush, indeed, there was, and a more brilliant one he thought he had never seen; but there was no smile, nor the least approach to one; and when he saw the artist quietly preparing to take her leave, he wished her well seated again, without any compromise of his own dignity. This, however, was impossible, and he was obliged to beg her pardon for the past, and promise better for the future.

Anna was soon busily at work again; and Lord Carrisbrooke, in unbroken silence, pondered upon her strange expressions. Painful duty,-task, anything but agreeable, &c. (6 Many ladies," thought he, "would be proud to paint my likeness, and some would be happy; but this country damsel, I dare say, would rather paint her own Damon." At last he began to think aloud.

"And pray, may I ask what induces you to undertake what is avowedly so disagreeabie to you?'

"Because I believe Lady Langley is unable to find any other person to do it for her; and because I am poor and want money.”

Lord Carrisbrooke was puzzled again; and shocked at his own want of consideration, when he thought that he had been throwing difficulties in the way of one who was performing an unpleasant task for the sake of money, of which she appeared to be in great need; for nothing else, he imagined, could have wrung from her such a confession.

The dignity with which she at first acknowledged herself to be conferring an obligation upon Lady Langley, and then such an avowal of her station and circumstances as must at once place her in a sphere immeasurably beneath himself, was a complete mystery. But Anna had purposely done this; for she had made a strong determination, against which her pride was not able to prevail,—that she would undertake this portrait as an artist, not as a friend; and when she saw what manner of man Lord Carrisbrooke was, she felt equally determined that he should know that she was occupying a poor, and what he would consider a contemptible, situation in society. And in order to render this disclosure as little painful as possible, she made it at first, openly and boldly, and then, thought she, "there will be a barrier betwixt us which he will have no inclination to overstep, and I shall have no character to support but that of a poor artist, defending myself by a little dignity, if it should be necessary."

Lord Carrisbrooke, finding himself foiled in all his attempts to elicit anything like amusement from his companion, began to grow weary of his position; when a happy thought struck him, and he asked Anna if she were fond of music?

"Maurice, my fellow, nas learned to play wonderfully well on the guitar since we were in Spain, and he has, besides, such a tolerable voice, that I often endure his music, when I can endure nothing else. If you can endure it too, he shall come and play to me, for I am growing miserably restless, and

Anna said, she should like it above all things; so Maurice was called in; and, seating himself a little behind his master, cleared his voice, and began

"I SAW my lover mount on the war-horse in his pride,
I wish'd I was the soldier, who mounted by his side;
Light was the feather, waving from his crest,
Rich was the mantle he folded on his breast.
The summer comes again, to the bird and the bee,
But Alphonso Carnairo returns not to me!

Tell me ye wild winds, sweeping o'er the plain,
Fell he on the battle-field, with the noble slain}
Tell me thou pale moon, smiling from on high,
Where sleeps my lover, that near him I may die?
The summer comes again, to the bird and the bee,
But Alphonso Carnsiro returns not to me!

I look to the blue hills that part me from my home,
How could my young heart ever wish to roam!
Fair is the land of the olive and the vine,

But flowers may be smiling where bosoms may pine,
The summer comes again to the bird and the bee,
But Alphonso Carnairo returns not to me!"

"Enough of that ditty," interrupted Lord Carrisbrooke. "Let the poor lady seek her lover without our assistance, and think of something else."

Maurice screwed up the strings of his instrument, and began again.

"BRAID no more thy hair for me,
Fast my hours are flying;

Sunny dell, and flow'ry lea,
Spread their summer charms for thee;
Mary, I am dying!

Lay the jewell'd wreath aside;

Fast my hours are flying;

Health, and peace, and hope, and pride, Dwell with thee, my lovely bride, Mary, I am dying.

Soon thy lip shall smile again,

Fast my hours are flying;
Grieve not for thy lover's pain,
Sighs, and tears, alike are vain,
Mary, I am dying!

Lov'd and loveliest, fare thee well!
Fast my hours are flying;
Lonely thou wilt hear the knell,
Solemn sound of passing bell,
Mary, I am dying!"

Whilst Maurice sang this song, the features of his master relaxed into an expres

was plaintive, and the words, though possessing little merit in themselves, were painfully touching to one, who felt himself so near the brink of the grave. Anna was struck with their aptness, and affected almost to tears, as she observed the change they had wrought; but still more so, when Lord Carrisbrooke, with that peculiar smile which is worn only by the wretched, said, in a playful and subdued voice, "Maurice, how dolorous you are: you'll sing me into my grave before I am ready for it."

Maurice looked up with anxiety and distress.

In their exchanging glances might be read, the trust of a long-tried and generous master; and the simple and devoted love of a faithful servant, whom nothing but death could separate from his lord; and to whom that long-dreaded separation would make the world a wilderness, through which he would thenceforth be a wanderer without a home.

Anna marked the expression, and saw, that, however harsh and rude Lord Carrisbrooke might be to her, he could be kind, and gentle, and familiar, even to a depend

ant, and an inferior.

Great obligations create strong attachments in generous minds. Lord Carrisbrooke was not prodigal of his affections, but Maurice had been to him in a foreign land, what no one else could be. He had nursed him through long illness, humoured his caprices, and borne with his irritable temper, when goaded almost to madness by the falsehood and ingratitude of others; and his master valued him accordingly.

Nearly a week passed away without any farther demand upon the services of the artist, and when Anna saw Lord Carrisbrooke again, there was a frightful alteration in his looks. His eye was hollow and sunken, his brow contracted with pain, and his whole countenance darkened, as with a cloud.

"I see you are horrified," said he, observ ing Anna's look of concern. "I have been wretchedly ill. They have bled, and blis