“If it’s any inconvenience,” remarked the latter, who felt the rebuke of Ellison’s manner, “it’s of no consequence just now. I am not pressed for money.” “It will be none at all. I will bring it round to you in the morning.” “I hope you’re not offended. I didn’t mean to wound your feelings,” said the friend, looking concerned. He felt that he had been indelicate in his allusions, and saw that Ellison was hurt. “Oh no. Not in the least,” replied the latter. “I hope you won’t put yourself to any inconvenience about the matter.” “No; it will be perfectly convenient.” Then followed a silence that was oppressive to both. A forced and distantly polite conversation followed, after which the visiter went away. As he closed the door of Ellison’s studio, the young artist clasped his hands together, while a distressed expression came into his face. “Oh! what an error I have committed!” came almost hissing through his teeth, at the same time that his arms were flung about his head with a gesture of impatience and despair. “I have sold myself—I have parted with my manliness—my independence—my right to breathe the air as a freeman. And what have I gained?” “A true-hearted, loving woman.” A gentle voice seemed to whisper these words in his ears as his mind grew calmer. “I have paid too high a price,” fell almost audibly from his lips. “And even she, when she knows the whole truth, will despise and turn from me. What madness!” For half an hour the young man remained in a state of great excitement. After that he grew calmer, and sitting down before his easel, took up his pallet and brushes and tried to work on a picture that he was painting. But his thoughts were too much disturbed. “I have promised to return the two hundred dollars to-morrow morning, and I must keep my word to _him_ if I steal the amount! When that obligation is removed we are no longer friends.” As Ellison said this he threw down his pallet and brushes, and springing from his chair, resumed his hurried walk about the door of his room. While thus occupied, a gentleman, accompanied by a lady, entered and asked to see some of his pictures. “What is your price for a portrait of this size?” was asked after a number of paintings had been examined. For a moment Ellison hesitated, and then replied— “Fifty dollars.” The gentleman and lady talked together, in a low tone, for a little while. Then the former said— “We have two children, and think about having them taken. Including our own portraits we would want four. If we give you the order, what would you charge for the whole?” “How old are the children?” “Young. The eldest is but five.” “You would want the children full length, I presume.” “Why, yes. We would prefer that, if it didn’t cost too much. What is your price for a full length of a child?” “Seventy-five dollars.” “That would make the four pictures cost two hundred and fifty dollars.” The lady shook her head. “Could you not take the four for two hundred dollars?”