The sooner it is over the better."

Half an hour after he entered his house with the trustees, and sworn
appraiser. He left them in the parlour below, while he held a brief
but painful interview with his family.

"Do not distress yourself, dear father!" Constance said, laying her
hand upon his shoulder. "We expected this, and have fully nerved
ourselves for the trial."

"May he who watches over, and regards us all, bless you, my
children!" the father said with emotion, and hurriedly left them.

A careful inventory of the costly furniture that adorned the
parlours was first taken. The plate was then displayed, rich and
beautiful, and valued; and then the trustees lifted their eyes to
the wall--they were connoisseurs in the fine arts; at least one of
them was, but a taste for the arts had, in his case, failed to
soften his feelings. He looked at a picture much as a dealer in
precious stones looks at a diamond, to determine its money-value.

"That is from Guido," he said, looking admiringly at a sweet
picture, which had always been a favourite of Mr. Morton's, "and it
is worth a hundred dollars."

"Shall I put it down at that?" asked the appraiser, who had little
experience in valuing pictures.

"Yes; put it down at one hundred. It will bring that under the
hammer, any day," replied the connoisseur. "Ah, what have we here? A
copy from Murillo's 'Good Shepherd.' Isn't that a lovely picture?
Worth a hundred and fifty, every cent. And here is 'Our Saviour,'
from Da Vinci's celebrated picture of the Last Supper; and a
'Magdalen' from Correggio. You are a judge of pictures, I see, Mr.
Morton! But what is this?" he said, eyeing closely a large
engraving, richly framed.

"A proof, as I live! from the only plate worth looking at of
Raphael's Madonna of St. Sixtus. I'll give fifty dollars for that,
myself."

The pictures named were all entered up by the appraiser, and then
the group continued their examination.

"Here is a Sully," remarked the trustee above alluded to, pausing
before Willie's portrait.

"But that is a portrait," Mr. Morton said, advancing, while his
heart leaped with a new and sudden fear.

"If it is, Mr. Morton, it is a valuable picture, worth every cent of
two hundred dollars. We cannot pass that, Sir."

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Morton, "take my Willie's portrait? O no, you
cannot do that!"

"It is no doubt a hard case, Mr. Morton," said one of the trustees.
"But we must do our duty, however pain