expression than
yesterday, as if some bright thought were flashing from the eyes, and
about to be uttered from the lips. Now that I have caught the look, it
becomes very decided."

While he was intent on these observations, Elinor turned to the
painter. She regarded him with grief and awe, and felt that he repaid
her with sympathy and commiseration, though wherefore she could but
vaguely guess.

"That look!" whispered she, and shuddered. "How came it there?"

"Madam," said the painter, sadly, taking her hand, and leading her
apart, "in both these pictures I have painted what I saw. The
artist--the true artist--must look beneath the exterior. It is his
gift--his proudest but often a melancholy one--to see the inmost soul,
and by a power indefinable even to himself to make it glow or darken
upon the canvas, in glances that express the thought and sentiment of
years. Would that I might convince myself of error in the present
instance!"

They had now approached the table, on which were heads in chalk, hands
almost as expressive as ordinary faces, ivied church towers, thatched
cottages, old thunder-stricken trees, Oriental and antique costume, and
all such picturesque vagaries of an artist's idle moments. Turning
them over, with seeming carelessness, a crayon sketch of two figures
was disclosed.

"If I have failed," continued he, "if your heart does not see itself
reflected in your own portrait, if you have no secret cause to trust my
delineation of the other, it is not yet too late to alter them. I
might change the action of these figures too. But would it influence
the event?"

He directed her notice to the sketch. A thrill ran through Elinor's
frame; a shriek was upon her lips; but she stifled it, with the
self-command that becomes habitual to all who hide thoughts of fear and
anguish within their bosoms. Turning from the table, she perceived
that Walter had advanced near enough to have seen the sketch, though
she could not determine whether it had caught his eye.

"We will not have the pictures altered," said she hastily. "If mine is
sad, I shall but look the gayer for the contrast."

"Be it so," answered the painter, bowing. "May your griefs be such
fanciful ones that only your picture may mourn for them! For your
joys--may they be true and deep, and paint themselves upon this lovely
face till it quite belie my art!"

After the marriage of Walter and Elinor, the pictures formed the two
most sp