th, a round table, a black marble time-piece of
the simplest form; two engravings, the 'Spasimo di Sicilia' and the
'Three Maries,' alone ornamented the walls; green blinds were placed
over the windows, not for ornament, but to moderate the light,
according to the desire of the artist; finally, three easels, on which
rested some unfinished portraits, and a large painting representing
Anna Boleyn embracing her daughter before going to execution.

When he entered, little Jules went first to embrace his sister; she
tenderly returned his caresses, then said to him in a gentle voice, as
she returned to her easel: 'Now, my dear child, let me go on with my
painting;' not, however, without addressing a friendly 'Good-morning'
to Henry, who she thought had come to play with Jules.

Henry had been looking at the unfinished pictures with a sort of
terror, because they appeared to him as obstacles between him and his
request. He dared not speak, fearing to hear again the terrible word
'impossible!' and he was going away, when Jules took him by the hand
and drew him towards Emily. 'Sister,' he said, 'I have brought my
friend Henry to see you; he wishes to ask you something; do speak to
him.'

'Jules,' she replied, 'let me paint; you know I have very little time.
You are playing the spoiled child: you abuse my indulgence.'

'Indeed, Emily, I am not jesting; you must really speak to Henry. If
you knew how unhappy he is!'

Mlle d'Orbe, raising her eyes to the boy, was struck with his pale
and anxious face, and said to him in a kind voice, as she continued
her painting: 'Forgive my rudeness, my little friend; this picture is
to be sent to the Exposition, and I have not a moment to lose,
because, both for my brother's sake and my own, I wish it to do me
credit. But speak, my child; speak without fear, and be assured that I
will not refuse you anything that is in the power of a poor artist.'

Henry, regaining a little courage, told her what he desired: then
Jules having related his friend's visit to their master, Henry added:
'But I see very well, mademoiselle, that you cannot do this portrait
either, and I am sorry to have disturbed you.'

In the meantime little Jules had been kissing his sister, and
caressing her soft hair, entreating her not to refuse his little
friend's request. Mlle d'Orbe was painting Anna Boleyn: she stopped
her work; a struggle seemed to arise in the depth of her heart, while
she looked affectionately on t