had ever
seen. She touched them, as if half-fearing they would melt away, or,
like elfin money, change into withered leaves. Then, brightly smiling,
she took them up, one by one and told them into her mother's lap.

"Take them, darling--my first earnings; and kiss me: kiss your happy
little girl!"

How sweet was that moment--worth whole years of after-fame! Olive
Rothesay might live to bathe in the sunshine of renown, to hear behind
her the murmur of a world's praise, but she never could know again the
bliss of laying at her mother's feet the first-fruits of her genius,
and winning, as its first and best reward, her mother's proud and happy
kiss.

"You will be quite rich now, my child."

"_We_ will be," said Olive, softly.

"And to think that such a great connoisseur as Mr.------ should choose
my Olive's picture. Ah! she will be a celebrated woman some time: I
always thought she would."

"_I will!_" said the firm voice in Olive's heart, as, roused to
enthusiasm by this sweet first success, she felt stirring within her the
spirit whose pulses she could not mistake--woman, nay, girl as she was.
Thinking on her future, the future that, with Heaven's blessing, she
would nobly work out, her eye dilated and her breast heaved. And then
on that wildly-heaving bosom strayed a soft, warm hand: a tender voice
whispered, "My child!"

And Olive, flinging her arms round her mother's neck, hid her face
there, and was a simple, trembling child once more.

It was a very happy evening for them both, almost the happiest in their
lives. The mother formed a score of plans of expending this newly-won
wealth, always to the winner's benefit solely; but Olive began to look
grave, and at last said, timidly:

"Mamma, indeed I want for nothing; and for this money, let us spend it
in a way that will make us both most content. O mother! I can know no
rest until we have paid Mr. Gwynne."

The mother sighed.

"Well, love, as you will. It is yours, you know; only, a little it pains
me that my child's precious earnings should go to pay that cruel debt."

"But not that they should go to redeem my father's honour?" said Olive,
still gently. She had her will.

When her picture was finished, and its price received, Olive, with a
joyful heart, enclosed the sum to their long-silent creditor.

"His name does not look quite so fearful now," she said, smiling,
when she was addressing the letter. "I can positively write it without
trembling, a