it-painting!"

"Where am I to get a sitter?' I inquired, with a gloomy shake of the
head.

"Me," said Mr. Batterbury, with an effort. "I'll be your first sitter.
As a beginner, and especially to a member of the family, I suppose your
terms will be moderate. Small beginnings--you know the proverb?" Here he
stopped; and a miserly leer puckered up his mahogany cheeks.

"I'll do you, life-size, down to your waistcoat, for fifty pounds," said
I.

Mr. Batterbury winced, and looked about him to the right and left, as if
he wanted to run away. He had five thousand a year, but he contrived to
took, at that moment, as if his utmost income was five hundred. I walked
on a few steps.

"Surely those terms are rather high to begin with?" he said, walking
after me. "I should have thought five-and-thirty, or perhaps forty--"

"A gentleman, sir, cannot condescend to bargain," said I, with mournful
dignity. "Farewell!" I waved my hand, and crossed over the way.

"Don't do that!" cried Mr. Batterbury. "I accept. Give me your address.
I'll come tomorrow. Will it include the frame! There! there! it doesn't
include the frame, of course. Where are you going now? To the colorman?
He doesn't live in the Strand, I hope--or near one of the bridges. Think
of Annabella, think of the family, think of the fifty pounds--an income,
a year's income to a prudent man. Pray, pray be careful, and compose
your mind: promise me, my dear, dear fellow--promise me, on your word of
honor, to compose your mind!"

I left him still harping on that string, and suffering, I believe, the
only serious attack of mental distress that had ever affected him in the
whole course of his life.

Behold me, then, now starting afresh in the world, in the character of
a portrait-painter; with the payment of my remuneration from my first
sitter depending whimsically on the life of my grandmother. If you care
to know how Lady Malkinshaw's health got on, and how I succeeded in
my new profession, you have only to follow the further course of these
confessions, in the next chapter.

CHAPTER IV.

I GAVE my orders to the colorman, and settled matters with my friend the
artist that day.

The next morning, before the hour at which I expected my sitter,
having just now as much interest in the life of Lady Malkinshaw as Mr.
Batterbury had in her death, I went to make kind inquiries after her
ladyship's health. The answer was most reassuring. Lady Malkinshaw had
no pre