He laid before her several sketches, and, observing, with evident pleasure, her expression of admiration he continued,—“This and this I have finished in oil, if it will afford you any amusement, I shall bring them down.” She assented with thanks and the pictures were produced. She scanned them over and over again, as if not new to connoisseurship, and when she turned her eyes to the painter from his work, they sparkled with delight that brought a flush to his face. “There is a view which you cannot yet have found;” said she, “one but a few minutes walk from here. I would rather see it on canvass, if executed in the spirit of these, than any Claude I have ever heard of!—when you have seen it I am confident you will undertake it. Will you let me point it out to you?” The painter cast upon her one of those quick, searching looks that belong to the profession, and was so struck with the intellectual beauty of her glowing and earnest face, that he forgot to reply. “In this gorgeous sunset it must be magnificent beyond imagination,” she continued, catching up a bonnet beside her; “if we hurry we shall yet have time to see it. Will you go now?” He merely bowed, without any common-places about “the pleasure” or the “happiness,” and laying down his portfolio, he closed the door of the edifice to secure his property, and set off beside her. “Well, what did you think of Miss Thompson?” asked Wallis of Mr. Sutton the next morning. “She has splendid black eyes, and how well she knows it too! but she is quite too shy,—I couldn’t draw her out.” “She was talking fast enough to Mr. Oakley, last evening,—I saw them walking together.” “Did you!” exclaimed Sutton, in surprise. “Yes, and if you don’t take care, he’ll spoil your flirtation before you get it rightly underweigh. He is as handsome a fellow as ever I saw, and as gentlemanlike.” Sutton glanced down at himself. “Oh, I don’t mind such things;” said he magnanimously; “indeed, I should rather give her credit for encouraging the young man. It is fashionable now to patronise such people. I intend to give him something to do myself, particularly as it will gratify the young lady. She expressed a wish yesterday to see some of his work, and I promised her to employ him on myself. Do you paint portraits, Mr. O-Oakton?—that I believe is the province of country artists;” he added to the painter who had presented himself. “Sometimes I do,—when I find a face worth painting.” “Of course, of course;—I have just been saying that I intend to get you to take mine. It may be of some service in getting you into business here. I hope you will not bore me by making me sit often. When can you begin?” “Any time,—now if you choose,—it won’t require long to take _you_ off. I have my portfolio at hand, and can do it at once. Take this seat.”