their remarks. He was a middle-aged man, with a countenance
well worthy of his own pencil. Indeed, by the picturesque though
careless arrangement of his rich dress, and, perhaps, because his soul
dwelt always among painted shapes, he looked somewhat like a portrait
himself. His visitors were sensible of a kindred between the artist
and his works, and felt as if one of the pictures had stepped from the
canvas to salute them.

Walter Ludlow, who was slightly known to the painter, explained the
object of their visit. While he spoke, a sun-beam was falling athwart
his figure and Elinor's, with so happy an effect that they also seemed
living pictures of youth and beauty, gladdened by bright fortune. The
artist was evidently struck.

"My easel is occupied for several ensuing days, and my stay in Boston
must be brief," said he, thoughtfully; then, after an observant glance,
he added, "but your wishes shall be gratified, though I disappoint the
Chief-Justice and Madam Oliver. I must not lose this opportunity, for
the sake of painting a few ells of broadcloth and brocade."

The painter expressed a desire to introduce both their portraits into
one picture, and represent them engaged in some appropriate action.
This plan would have delighted the lovers, but was necessarily
rejected, because so large a space of canvas would have been unfit for
the room which it was intended to decorate. Two half-length portraits
were therefore fixed upon. After they had taken leave, Walter Ludlow
asked Elinor, with a smile, whether she knew what an influence over
their fates the painter was about to acquire.

"The old women of Boston affirm," continued he, "that after he has once
got possession of a person's face and figure, he may paint him in any
act or situation whatever--and the picture will be prophetic. Do you
believe it?"

"Not quite," said Elinor, smiling. "Yet if he has such magic, there is
something so gentle in his manner that I am sure he will use it well."

It was the painter's choice to proceed with both the portraits at the
same time, assigning as a reason, in the mystical language which he
sometimes used, that the faces threw light upon each other.
Accordingly, he gave now a touch to Walter, and now to Elinor, and the
features of one and the other began to start forth so vividly that it
appeared as if his triumphant art would actually disengage them from
the canvas. Amid the rich light and deep shade they beheld the