“Partly pleasure—partly the hope of profit. You both know my ardent desire to visit Italy, and the small means I possess to carry my wishes into effect. Apart from my own desire to improve the superior facilities which the old world affords, you are aware that in this country it is rarely an artist arrives to eminence, or even a reputation above the medium, unless he has first sunned himself beneath the vine-clad hills of Italy—a _foreign_ stamp is needed ere he can pass current with the multitude. To Italy, then, must I go, ere I can realize my ambitious hopes. By leading a sort of strolling life, for a season, roaming from village to village, in the exercise of my profession, I hope to raise a sufficient sum for the undertaking.” “I have no doubt of your success,” said Evans. “Indeed in this place there are several wealthy families who would doubtless be glad of an opportunity to transmit themselves to posterity through your fadeless tints.” “I should not wonder, George,” said Kate, “if Emma—” “_Emma!_” exclaimed Auburn. “Yes, Emma—why, what is the matter with you—one would think I had uttered some charm. I was going to say perhaps Emma might sit for her portrait—her lover would like it, I dare say.” At the word _lover_, the heart of Auburn, just now in his mouth, sunk like lead—and yet he knew not why. “Do you think,” added Kate, “you could portray ‘That loveliness, ever in motion, which plays Like the light upon Autumn’s soft shadowy days, Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies From the lips to the cheek—from the cheek to the eyes;’ but excuse me again—I always forget myself when speaking of Emma Willis.” “_Emma Willis!_” cried Auburn. “Kate, who are you talking of—good heavens, you don’t say that—” “Say what!” interrupted Kate. “What ails the man? All I said was, that, as I have told you a thousand times, Emma Willis is a charming girl; and I hope to attend her wedding ere I leave the village—but here we are at home—good-night, we shall see you to-morrow”—and breaking from Auburn, who vainly endeavored to detain her, the mischievous girl ran into the house, followed by Evans, who also seemed in an unaccountable hurry to get away from his friend—and such a laugh as came wafted to poor Harry’s ears and was too much for any Christian to bear. CHAPTER V.