They made a beautiful picture as they stood, and the contrast only added to the charms of either. Had a painter desired models for the patrician descendant of Saxon kings, and the dark, passionate-eyed Jewess, he could not have found more perfect representatives, at least of his ideal. “Will you sit down?” Anna said. “It was very kind of you to come.” Her composure was quite restored, brought back more completely, perhaps, by a pretty little hesitation in Georgiana’s manner, such as a petted child might betray when venturing upon some step for which it feared reproval. “Thank you; ah! it’s nice of you not to be offended,” said Georgiana, sitting down by the fire. “Mrs. Savage gave me your address; and ever since the tableau I have been so wanting to come.” “In what way can I serve you?” Anna asked, with a proud humility. “Oh, now! if you are going to be stately, you will frighten me off altogether,” cried Georgiana; “so please don’t, for I’m not at all stately myself.” Anna smiled as a queen might have smiled at a spoiled child. Ah! the spell of wealth and station may be ever so strong, there is a power in nature’s patents of nobility which is stronger still. “I don’t think I know much about being stately,” she said, with one of her rare laughs, which were so musical. “Certainly it would be a poor way of showing my thanks for your kindness in even remembering me.” “As if anybody could forget you! Why, the whole city has been raving about you ever since that night!” exclaimed Georgiana; “and the men have done nothing but beg Mrs. Savage for another sight of the queen of beauty.” Such words would have been very pleasant to a young girl whose life was golden as youth ought to be; but to Anna, oppressed with care and daily anxieties, they brought only a bitter pain. Dear Mrs. Browning has told us in her passionate way— “How dreary ’tis for women to sit still, On Winter nights, by solitary fires, And hear the nations praising them far off.” And more than one woman’s heart has ached to feel its truth; but truly, for a woman to hear that her beauty is the theme of idle tongues, while she sees those dear as her own life almost hungering for bread, is a bitter comment still on the vanity of human life. “So I thought I would come,” continued Georgiana; “and I want you to do me a favor.” “If I can,” Anna said; “but don’t ask me to take part in any more such exhibitions. I can’t, indeed I can’t.” “No, no!” returned Georgiana, hastily; “I wont. You shall not be bothered. But I’ll tell you what I wish you would do. Now do you promise?” “I think I may,” Anna replied, with her lovely smile. “You don’t look as if you could ask any thing very terrible.” “Indeed I wont!” cried she, in her enthusiastic way. “I like you so much; don’t be vexed. I don’t want to be patronizing or snobbish. I hate it so; but——” “I am sure you don’t. Please go on.”