metimes thought, she must
ask herself who was this stranger that brought with him a flood
of sunshine into the homely painting-room? that steeped for her,
unconsciously and without effort, every day in happiness, every
morning in hope? She put off asking the question, having perhaps a
wholesome recollection of him who, going to count his treasure of
fairy gold, found it only withered leaves, and let herself float with
the stream, in that enjoyment of the present which is enhanced rather
than modified by misgivings for the future. Nina was very happy, that
is the honest truth, and even her beauty seemed to brighten like the
bloom on a flower, opening to the smile of spring.

Simon marked the change. How could he help it? And still he
painted--painted on.

"There!" exclaimed the artist, with a sigh of relief, as he stepped
back from his picture, stretching both weary arms above his head. "At
last--at last! If I only like it to-morrow as well as I do now, not
another touch shall go into it anywhere above the chin. It's the
expression I've been trying to catch for months. There it is! Doubt,
sorrow, remorse, and, through it all, the real undying love of
the--Well, that's all can't! I mean--Can't you see that she likes him
awfully even now? Nina, you've been the making of me, you're the best
sitter in the world, and while I look at my picture I begin to think
you're the handsomest. I mustn't touch it again. Stanmore, what do you
think?"

Absorbed in contemplation of his work, he paid little attention to the
answer, which was so far fortunate, that Dick, in his preoccupation,
faltered out a string of contradictory criticisms, flattering neither
to the original nor the copy. Nina indeed suggested, with some truth,
that he had made the eyebrows too dark, but this remark appeared to
originate only in a necessity for something to say. These two young
people seemed unusually shy and ill at ease. Perhaps in each of the
three hearts beating there before the picture lurked some vague
suspicion that its wistful expression, so lately caught, may have been
owing to corresponding feelings lately awakened in the model; and, if
so, why should not two of them have thrilled with happiness, though
the third might ache in loneliness and despair?

"Not another stroke of work will I do to-day," said the artist,
affecting a cheerfulness which perhaps he did not feel. "Nina, you've
got to be back early. I'll have a half-holiday for once and t