same spirit; but no one thought of the consequences to which it might lead.

A momentary smile stole over the features of the sick man, when Luigia stood by his bedside the following morning, arrayed in the showy but faded garments prepared for her, her countenance radiant with that youthful beauty which neither tears nor poverty had hitherto been able to dim; and he likened her to her mother as she was when they first met; which made the now harsh and coarse-featured woman smile also, and dismiss her daughter with unwonted good humour to her new vocation.

Mr. Freeland was well satisfied with her striking and picturesque appearance, and his own picture, and paid her liberally in consequence; neither did he forget his promise of recommending her to other members of the profession. So that Luigia had the happiness of almost entirely supporting her family by her own exertions, the increasing illness of Villani, leaving his wife little time to do anything beyond attending to him, added to which her own health was fast giving way beneath the influence of the climate, and increasing toil and anxiety.

Luigia's most liberal patron, after Mr. Freeland, was a Mr. Carlyon a young artist whose persevering industry and unquestionable talent, promised to place him in a few years, if he should be spared so long, at the head of his profession. He had a hired studio, away from his own family, who resided at a short distance from town, and the people of the house attended to his few and simple wants. Edward Carlyon looked upon Luigia, just as he would have looked upon some beautiful picture, and expressed his admiration with equal openness and sincerity: while the girl listened for the first time in her life, with a timid pleasure in her down-cast eyes. She had long known that she was beautiful; but somehow she did not seem to care about it until he told her. Any hint or suggestion which he happened to let fall regarding her dress or appearance, was carefully adopted on the next occasion; and Luigia often felt disappointed because he failed to notice the alteration-but the fact was he had forgotten all about it. And so long as there was nothing to offend the critical minuteness of his somewhat fastidious taste, cared very little about the matter.

There was no place where Luigia liked so well to go, or took so long in arranging her magnificent black hair and simple attire, previous to quitting home. No place where she felt so happy. And yet, poor child! she knew not why, unless it was that Edward Carlyon always spoke so kindly and gently to her

.but

NO. IV.

H

VOL. I.

then Mr. Freeland was very kind also, and she never seemed to care whether she went there or not-unless her mother wanted money. Once, when she chanced to arrive a little too early, and before Mr. Carlyon was ready, he offered her a book to amuse her; and Luigia was forced to confess, with a burning blush, her inability to read it.

"I had forgotten you were an Italian," said the young artist; "but am fortunate enough to possess an excellent little work in your own language, which you may like to look at." But still the girl shook her head, and could have wept over that ignorance which was rather a misfortune than a fault.

Mr. Carlyon turned away. She was wrong in fancying that he scorned, he only pitied her, and a few moments afterwards had forgotten the whole occurrence. Luigia began from that hour to teach herself to read; and as nothing is impossible to those who set themselves determinedly to work, had soon made considerable progress, and she longed for an opportunity of surprising the young artist with the extent of her self acquired knowledge.

Sometimes Luigia would fall into a deep reverie-a pleasant day dream which constituted some of the happiest periods of her existence. One of Mr. Carlyon's most successful pictures was taken thus, and designated "The Dreamer." It had an immense sale, by which the young artist took care that the girl herself should be likewise a gainer.

"Were you ever in love, Luigia ?" asked he with a smile, upon one of the occasions; but immediately changed the subject on observing her drooping head and burning cheek, and was kinder than ever during the remainder of the day; fancying somehow, that she might have been disappointed young as she was, and yet that seemed scarcely possible with her rare beauty.

Although Mr. Carlyon laughed at Luigia, he was very much given to the same sort of dreaming himself; during which he would sit for hours together without speaking a word, and only looking from her to his picture, and from his picture to her, but seeing another face in his mind's eye as he worked on mechanically. And then rousing up all of a sudden, with a bright smile that shewed they had been happy musings, apply himself with renewed industry to those high tasks which were to realize the vision.

Villani died at length, surrounded by a thousand little comforts which Luigia had managed to procure for him; while forgetful of the past, the mother and daughter wept together

over that loss which many considered a gain. The widow's touching lament was true to woman's nature.

"He was not always thus," said she, and I cannot help loving him for what he once was. Poor Carlo! he did not mean to be unkind-but the drink and the poverty together drove him mad!"

Luigia remained at home to try and comfort her mother, until her little earnings were nearly exhausted; and then went forth with an aching heart to sit to a celebrated artist, whom we shall call M. Dumont, for the picture of a Contadina, carrying on her head a basket of fruit crowned with flowers, and looking the very personification of health and innocent gaiety.

"What is the matter with you to-day ?" asked M. Dumont, impatiently. "Cannot you try and smile a little more ?"

Luigia made a faint effort to obey him, and burst into tears. "This will never do-and yet the picture must be finished. Lost your father, you say; well, well, if what Freeland told me about him is true, it is no such great loss. But you had better go home now, and come to me again this day week-you will have got over it by that time."

Luigia obeyed him in silence. She dared not tell her mother how weak she had been. That night they had no supper.

The following day she was engaged to sit to Mr. Carlyon. The knowledge of Villani's death, rendered his manner even more than usually kind, and he was careful to detain her as short a time as possible. The picture acquired a tone of gentle sadness in that sitting, which was inexpressively touching, and gave it a new and strange beauty. The artist complimented both her and himself; and had no sooner departed, having first paid her for her time, than the servant of the house made her appearance with a cup of warm chocolate, and a new loaf and butter for Luigia, who put it back with a wistful glance, and a sad smile. "I am sorry that you do not like chocolate," said the girl, kindly.

“Oh, I do like it very much, Mary; but I cannot afford it. I must take every penny home," said she, pointing to her little earnings. "We are so poor !"

"Well, there is no disgrace in poverty. But Mr. Carlyon will be quite disappointed if you do not take something, he ordered it on purpose for you."

"Mr. Carlyon!"

"Yes, he fancied you did not seem very well."

"And did he really think of me? The Saints reward him!”

exclaimed Luigia clasping her beautiful little hands together, and looking, as Mary said, so like her picture that it was quite wonderful!

"Do try and eat a bit," continued the girl." You will find it very nice, for I made it myself."

"Oh, thank you, I am sure of that. And to confess the truth I am a little hungry, having eaten nothing since yesterday morning."

"Poor thing!" said her companion pitifully; "you may well look so pale and thin. And she stood watching with benevolent delight to see the eagerness with which Luigia eat her new bread and butter. "If I had only remembered to bring an egg with it!" thought Mary, regretfully, "I could easily have replaced it the next time I went out, and no one be any the wiser-but another time will do. Poor thing! She must not starve. What could I have been about never to notice her until Mr. Carlyon so kindly put it into my head. beautiful she is to be sure!"

And how

Having finished her repast, Luigia gathered up her long hair under her bonnet, and prepared to depart, first thanking Mary very gratefully. She felt quite a different being, and could have cheerfully sat to M. Dumont for the Contadina, had it been necessary.

Luigia was earlier than usual on the following morning, for she longed to see and thank her benefactor; but Mr. Carlyon had not yet arrived. He entered however in a few moments, and instead of placing himself as usual at his easel, came and sat down by her side upon the sofa.

"I have been speaking of you, Luigia," said he, "to a very dear friend, who is much interested about and may you, have it in her power to be of infinite service. Would you like to see her?"

"Oh yes!" replied Luigia eagerly. "I will give you her address then. one of the kindest and gentlest beings earth!"

And you will find her that ever walked the

"It is sufficient she is your friend," said Luigia. "Poor child! how good and innocent you are," observed the artist. "And how beautiful! Yes, Edith was right, this

is a sad life for one like you."

"I am very happy," said Luigia, suffering her little hand to rest passively in his, while she looked up gratefully into his face. "I was never so happy in my life as I have been of late, since—

since I first met Mr. Freeland, and he taught me how I might help to maintain myself and parents. My mother will soon get well again, and then we shall want for nothing."

"I hope not, Luigia. But this friend of whom I spoke will advise you better than I can. I am in no hurry about the picture if you would like to go to her at once, it is not far." "Shall I?" said Luigia, simply.

"Yes, my child, I think you had better. But let me look at you first. You are sure you have breakfasted to-day ?"

Luigia smiled and colored beneath his gaze, while the tears trembled in her beautiful eyes. And hastily interrupting the thanks she would have poured forth, the young artist began to direct her which way she was to go; and bid her be sure and come to him at the same hour on the following morning, and tell him all about it, and what she thought of his friend. The young Italian promised willingly, and departed with a beating heart. Nor were her fears subdued by the appearance of the splendid mansion before which she at length paused.

"His

"I wonder who this friend can be," thought Luigia. sister, perhaps. Anyhow I shall be sure to love her!" Poor Luigia! All idea of loving Edith Berrington vanished at the first glance; and she painfully felt her own inferiority to the high born and elegant looking woman before her.

"You are the young person, I believe, of whom Mr. Carlyon was speaking to me last night," observed Miss Berrington after a pause, during which she had been surveying her visitor from head to foot, with a cold, supercilious gaze, the rare beauty of whose face and form, made anything but a favorable impression. "You need not leave us, Fanchon," added she, turning to her attendant, "I want you to alter this trimming a little."

The waiting woman sat down silently to her task; and Luigia remained standing in the middle of the apartment, embarrassed and ill at ease.

"Mr. Carlyon tells me," continued Miss Berrington, "that you have lately lost your father; and are so badly off as to be glad to go out as a model, I think he called it, to any one who will employ you. And he thinks as I do that it would be better for you to endeavour to earn your living in a less reprehensible and indelicate manner. I wonder, indeed, how any young girl with the least pretension to modesty could ever dream of taking up such a profession-for my own part I would have starved sooner!" "But my father and mother must have starved also. Oh, what was I to do? I am sure I did not think any harm!"