ur of painting the portrait of one of the most
distinguished members of the British aristocracy. He exerted all his
powers in the work, and was rewarded with success; the portrait caused
some sensation, and was regarded as a _chef-d'oeuvre_. Thus
auspiciously wooed, Fortune opened her arms, and gave him a place
among her own favoured children. The first success was succeeded by
others, commission followed commission; and, to be brief, after four
years of incessant engagements and unwearied industry, he found
himself owner of a high reputation and a moderate independence.

During all this time, and throughout the dazzling progress of his
fortunes, the crayon sketch of poor Miss Harrenburn was preserved and
prized, and carried wherever he went with never-failing care and
solicitude. Sanctified by indelible associations, it was to him a
sacred amulet--a charm against evil thoughts, a stimulant to virtue
and purity--this picture of the young lady lying dead, gone gently to
the last account in the midst of her beauty and untainted goodness.
Its influence made him a pure-minded, humble, kind, and charitable
man. Living quietly and frugally, he constantly devoted a large
proportion of his extensive earnings to the relief of the miseries of
the unfortunate; and such traits did not pass without due recognition:
few who knew him spoke of his great talents without bearing testimony
to the beauty of his moral character.

But everything may be carried to excess; even the best feelings may be
cherished to an inordinate degree. Many of the noblest characters the
world has produced have overreached their intentions, and sunk into
fanaticism. Conrad, in the fourth year of his success, was fast
merging from a purist into an ascetic; he began to weary of the world,
and to desire to live apart from it, employing his life, and the
fortune he had already accumulated, solely in works of charity and
beneficence. While in this state of mind, he determined to proceed on
a continental tour. After spending some time in France, where many an
Hotel Dieu was benefited by his bounty, he travelled into Switzerland.
At Chamouni, he made a stay of some days, residing in the cottage of
an herbalist named Wegner, in preference to using the hotels so well
known to tourists.

One evening, he had walked some distance along the road towards Mont
Blanc, and, in a tranquil and contemplative mood, had paused to watch
the various effects of sunset. He leaned ag