was a member of the Holy Inquisition, sent over by the Spanish Government as a spy. "I could more easily imagine your lordship one of the Knights Templars,” replied Anna. "Excellent And you shall be my Rebecca." And immediately his countenance changed to an expression infinitely more insupportable. It was impossible to proceed. After many unsuccessful trials, Anna at last laid down her palette and her pencil, and, rising from her seat, addressed Lord Carrisbrooke with the greatest gravity and earnestness of man ner. "Since your lordship appears determined to frustrate, instead of facilitating, the performance of a task which I have undertaken as a painful duty,—a task which would not, under any circumstances, be agreeable to me, I must decline making any further attempt; and will therefore, with your lordship's permission, inform Lady Langley that the portrait is given up." The inquisitor was completely at a loss what to make of all this; a blush, a giggle, or a simper, was what he had expected to produce. The blush, indeed, there was, and a more brilliant one he thought he had never seen; but there was no smile, nor the least approach to one; and when he saw the artist quietly preparing to take her leave, he wished her well seated again, without any compromise of his own dignity. This, however, was impossible, and he was obliged to beg her pardon for the past, and promise better for the future. Anna was soon busily at work again; and Lord Carrisbrooke, in unbroken silence, pondered upon her strange expressions. Painful duty,—task,—anything but agreeable, &c. Many ladies," thought he, "would be proud to paint my likeness, and some would be happy; but this country damsel, I dare say, would rather paint her own Damon." At last he began to think aloud. "And pray, may I ask what induces you to undertake what is avowedly so disagreeabie to you?" "Because I believe Lady Langley is unable to find any other person to do it for her; and because I am poor and want money." Lord Carrisbrooke was puzzled again; and shocked at his own want of consideration, when he thought that he had been throwing difficulties in the way of one who was performing an unpleasant task for the sake of money, of which she appeared to be in great need; for nothing else, he imagined, could have wrung from her such a confession. The dignity with which she at first acknowledged herself to be conferring an obligation upon Lady Langley, and then such an avowal of her station and circumstances as must at once place her in a sphere immeasurably beneath himself, was a complete mystery. But Anna had purposely done this; for she had made a strong determination, against which her pride was not able to prevail,-that she would undertake this portrait as an artist, not as a friend; and when she saw what manner of man Lord Carrisbrooke was, she felt equally determined that he should know that she was occupying a poor, and what he would consider a contemptible, situation in society. And in order to render this disclosure as little painful as possible, she made it at first, openly and boldly, and then, thought she, "there will be a barrier betwixt us which he will have no inclination to overstep, and I shall have no character to support but that of a poor artist, defending myself by a little dignity, if it should be necessary.” Lord Carrisbrooke, finding himself foiled in all his attempts to elicit anything like amusement from his companion, began to grow weary of his position; when a happy thought struck him, and he asked Anna il she were fond of music? making the folds of my cloak very unclassi- sion of the deepest melancholy. The air cal ?" Anna said, she should like it above all things; so Maurice was called in; and, seating himself a little behind his master, cleared his voice, and began "I saw my lover mount on the war-horse in his pride, Tell me ye wild winds, sweeping o'er the plain, I look to the blue hills that part me from my home, But flowers may be smiling where bosoms may pine, "Enough of that ditty," interrupted Lord Carrisbrooke. "Let the poor lady seek her lover without our assistance, and think of something else." Maurice screwed up the strings of his instrument, and began again. "BRAID no more thy hair for me, Fast my hours are flying; Sunny dell, and flow'ry lea, Spread their summer charms for thee; Mary, I am dying! Lay the jewell'd wreath aside; Fast my hours are flying; Health, and peace, and hope, and pride, Seen thy p shall smile again, Fast my hours are flying; Lov'd and loveliest, fare thee well! Fast my hours are flying; Whilst Maurice sang this song, the features of his master relaxed into an expres was plaintive, and the words, though possessing little merit in themselves, were painfully touching to one, who felt himself so near the brink of the grave. Anna was struck with their aptness, and affected almost to tears, as she observed the change they had wrought; but still more so, when Lord Carrisbrooke, with that peculiar smile which is worn only by the wretched, said, in a playful and subdued voice, "Maurice, how dolorous you are you'll sing me into my grave before I am ready for it." Maurice looked up with anxiety and dis tress. In their exchanging glances might be read, the trust of a long-tried and generous master; and the simple and devoted love of a faithful servant, whom nothing but death could separate from his lord; and to whom that long-dreaded separation would make the world a wilderness, through which he would thenceforth be a wanderer without a home. Anna marked the expression, and saw, that, however harsh and rude Lord Carrisbrooke might be to her, he could be kind, and gentle, and familiar, even to a dependant, and an inferior. Great obligations create strong attachments in generous minds. Lord Carrisbrooke was not prodigal of his affections, but Maurice had been to him in a foreign land, what no one else could be. He had nursed him through long illness, humoured his caprices, and borne with his irritable temper, when goaded almost to madness by the falsehood and ingratitude of others; and his master valued him accordingly. Nearly a week passed away without any farther demand upon the services of the artist, and when Anna saw Lord Carrisbrooke again, there was a frightful alteration in his looks. His eye was hollow and sunken, his brow contracted with pain, and his whole countenance darkened, as with a cloud. "I see you are horrified," said he, observing Anna's look of concern. "I have been wretchedly ill. They have bled, and blis tered, and half killed me: but now I have escaped from their clutches for a while, and am, fair Angelica, very much at your service; for a Tancred, or anything else you like. So to business if you please, as the case admits of no delay. Let me see,-I may possibly hold out another month.one sitting a week,-will that finish it? Anna was indeed so horrified, that she had no remark to make, but went on as she was desired; while Lord Carrisbrooke remained impenetrably silent, and would have been motionless, but for the pain he was evidently enduring, which often compelled him to change his position. “No, no, I can bear it vastly well,-the worst is over for a while; I am only afraid of faintness. Give me that phial, and then, if you please, go on. any signs of life; while Anna raised his dark hair, and bathed his pale temples, and performed all those little offices of kindness so familiar to the heart and hand of wom.in. "Oh! say not woman's love is bought," by smiles, and flattery, and deceit. By deceit, it may be, but let him who would make sure of this prize, debase himself by the vilest of all treachery. Let him wear the mask of suffering, if he knows not the reality. Let sickness waste his frame, and sorrow set her seal upon his brow. Let poverty clench him in her iron grasp, and in "I fear your Lordship is in great suffer-famy track his footsteps; and want, and ing,” said Anna, “I will paint no more to-weakness, and misery, beset him in his daily day." path; then, while his boon-companions fill his vacant chair with mirth, and "set the table in a roar," let him seek refuge in the tenderness, and the generosity of woman; and see whether she, who withstood his fascinations amidst the blaze of popular applause, the pride of beauty, and the pomp of power, will not be ready again, and again, to offer the cup of consolation to his ungrateful lips, while she drinks the dregs of bitterness herself. There is no time to be lost, and my lachrymose sister would cry herself into the grave, were I really to withdraw my presence from this blessed earth, "And leave the world no copy." Lord Carrisbrooke had scarcely done speaking, when an ashy paleness stole over his countenance, making it yet more ghastly; and in his breast there was a struggling, as if for the very breath of life. Anna flew to the bell. "Don't ring," said he, with all the strength he could command. "Maurice is always so distressed, and Lucy had better not know; you are a stranger, and will not care. It will be over in a moment;-may I lean upon your arm?” The arm that never refused its help to the needy, was willingly stretched out; and while he spoke the last words, the eyes of the haughty and stoical Lord Carrisbrooke were raised with the imploring helplessness of a child. It was but for a moment; and then the heavy lids were closed, and nothing but a slight working of the underjaw gave Let the man who is merciless to the faults of his weak sister, look back to the days of his infancy, and ask whose watchful eye bent over him in his cradle, on whose bosom he wept away the first sorrows of existence; and who sung him with her gentle voice to rest? Who protected his weakness, and soothed his complainings, and turned his tears to joy? Who sat by his sick-bed and watched, but never wearied, through the night; forgetting her own existence, in the intensity of her anxiety for his? Who taught his young lips to utter the first accents of prayer? Who, when the ills of life pressed heavily, poured balm into his wounded spirit, and who at last will shed tears of sincerest sorrow upon his grave? Is it not a bright being of the sisterhood of those of old, who stole away in the darkness of the morning, to offer spices and precious oint ments as a last tribute of affection to their beloved Master, after man had set his seal upon the door of the sepulchre, and left him | alone to his eternal rest? CHAPTER XVIII. ing of more brilliant and sparkling orbs; and Mary fixed upon the face of her friend this searching expression; ana Anna felt that she was looking at her, though their eyes did not meet. It was in vain that she tried to change the current of her thoughts. She felt that she was blushing, and she felt also, that she was convicted in an act of eggregious folly. At last, when she could bear it no longer, she laid down her work, and exclaimed, "( Mary, you are too deep for me. You have discovered what I was trying to conceal from myself; that I have really been taking all this pains, to make myself look more pleasing and more ladylike, in the eyes of a man, who is shuddering on the brink of the grave. I thank you from my heart, Mary, for your well-timed and gentle warning. You see I am again beset with temptation. It is a hard lesson that I have to learn; for no sooner is one branch of vanity cut off, than it puts forth another; but if He will give me help, to whom alone belongs the glory of victory, I will be worthy of your friendship yet, Mary." And with this laud HAD Lord Carrisbrooke thought it worth his while to practise upon his young companion all the arts of fascination, of which he had once boasted himself the master, he would probably not have excited so deep a feeling of interest, as his weakness and suffering had called forth; and long did the in- | tervening days appear to Anna before she was again summoned to her appointed task. The next time the artist was seated at her easel, Lord Carrisbrooke felt himself so much better, as to be able to converse with ease and pleasure; and now to his wandering and delighted auditor, he poured forth the rich treasures of a mind, stored with almost every kind of information, selected with taste and judgment, from a life of constant amuse-able resolution, Anna went to her own room, ment and variety; and did not hold himself above the trouble of being agreeable, even in obscurity, and to a simple country girl; for he saw that she had understanding enough to appreciate his own talents, and sensibility to feel gratified by his endeavour to please: to say nothing of the vanity of both, which formed the chain of connection between their spirits, blending all agreeable ideas and associations into one bond of sympathy. and after locking up her silk dress, cast a farewell glance at the mirror, before she went to her morning's occupation. It was only intended for one glance, but the wind had been busy with her raven hair; and sorry we are to say, that Anna looked again and again; for there were ringlets to arrange, and a pink handkerchief to adjust, so as to give a glow to her faded complexion. Lord Carrisbrooke had again sunk into his usual state of brooding melancholy, probably from an increase of his bodily infirmities, bringing, as they not unfrequently do, an increased longing to retain a life, of which those who cling to it with the greatest pertinacity, often profess to be the most weary; and he might besides have his own private reasons for dreading his impending doom. Anna saw at one glance that he was worse; and though she made no remark, yet she found many excuses for altering the folds of his cloak, that she might at the same time place his cushions more comfortably, offer him refreshments, or soothe him, with kind words; never so touching as when whispered near to the ear, in the sweet tones of womanly tenderness. There was something in the situation of Lord Carrisbrooke deeply and painfully affecting to a sensitive mind; and it afforded him no small degree of gratification, to find that Anna was affected by it. He had wandered through the world as a stranger, extracting from society every thing but what he most wanted;-the communion of a kindred soul-the pure and devoted affection of a guileless and unsophisticated heart. In vain he had tried to make any lasting impression upon the feelings of woman, as he had found her, in the magic circle of fashion, glittering in deceitful charms, and decked in false smiles; and often had he exclaimed, after returning to his own chamber, "My poor Maurice loves me better than any of them." His sister, it is true, regarded him with what some would call passionate fondness; and he knew, that when the hour of parting should draw near, she would be overwhelmed with anguish, and drowned in tears; but he knew also, that her light step would skip over the church-yard before his grave was green. And yet, what bond of union could possibly exist between the haughty Lord Carrisbrooke, and the humble Anna Clare? He, surrounded by luxury and wealth, yet suspended but for a few brief moments above the gloomy grave; and she, a simple country maiden, apparently pursuing her homely path with patient steps. Yes, there was a bond betwixt them. The bond of sympathy, felt and acknowledged by both. Sympathy of taste, and thought, and feeling; sympathy of high purpose, and noble sentiment; sympathy, which no difference of rank or station can subdue; sympathy in the inward yearnings of the spirit, which struggled in vain to support its own existence; clinging in its weakness to the veriest reeds of earth, and rejecting again and again, the offer of that hand which alone is mighty to save. It was in the cheerful month of June, that the noble invalid and the young artist, sat together at an open window, during the quiet morning hours, before the Hall was disturbed by visiters, and while the dew was yet upon the grass. For now they often found both time and inclination to converse, and Lord Carrisbrooke cast his melancholy eyes around upon the clear landscape, the blue hills, the shining river, the green slopes, and the deep shadows of the trees; but neither the fair landscape, nor the scent of summer flowers, the hum of bees, nor the song of merry birds, brought gladness to his soul, for he was losing his firm step upon the joyous earth, and looking almost his last upon the smiling flowers, and listening to the jocund birds, that would soon be winging their happy flight above his grave. "You will be here," said he, as if continuing the mournful train of his reflections, "You will be here when summer comes again, and-I,-" He paused and looked earnestly at Anna. Words were upon her lips which might have been applicable in such an hour, but she dared not utter them. How did her spirit yearn to answer, “And you will be in heaven!" All that woman can say, with eyes that shine through tears, was written in her countenance; but she made no audible reply, and her companion went on quoting the words of Antony, "I am dying, Egypt, dying." but "A fatal malady is preying upon my heart, yet I brave it out to the world, and none, my faithful Maurice, knows that I endure any other than bodily suffering; even he knows not the cause, but to you I will confess, that when I think of launching forth upon the boundless ocean of eternity, I feel like a fearful child, about to enter upon a region of impenetrable darkness. "In my ride the other day, I saw a poor woman sitting at the door of her cottage, reading her Bible; and oh! how I envied |