sposition is too much like your own to suffer me to sit down in idleness,
while there is so much to be done in the world. I, too, want to earn a
noble reputation, which will survive long after I have been gathered to my
fathers; I want to accomplish some work, looking upon which, my
fellow-creatures will proclaim: 'That woman has not lived in vain; the
world is better and happier because she came and laboured in it.' I want my
name carved, not on monumental marble only, but upon the living, throbbing
heart of my age!--stamped indelibly on the generation in which my lot is
cast. Perhaps I am too sanguine of success; a grievous disappointment may
await all my ambitious hopes, but failure will come from want of genius,
not lack of persevering patient toil. Upon the threshold of my career,
facing the loneliness of coming years, I resign that hope with which, like
a golden thread, most women embroider their future. I dedicate myself, my
life, unreservedly to Art."

"You believe that you will be happier among the marble and canvas of Italy
than in W---- with me?"

"Yes; I shall be better satisfied there. All my life it has gleamed afar
off, a glorious land of promise to my eager, longing spirit. From childhood
I have cherished the hope of reaching it, and the fruition is near at hand.
Italy! bright Alma Mater of the art to which I consecrate my years. Do you
wonder that, like a lonely child, I stretch, out my arms toward it? Yet my
stay there will be but for a season. I go to complete my studies, to make
myself a more perfect instrument for my noble work, and then I shall come
home--come, not to New York, but to my own dear native South, to W----,
that I may labour under the shadow of its lofty pines, and within hearing
of its murmuring river--dearer to me than classic Arno, or immortal Tiber.
I wrote you that Mr. Clifton had left me a legacy, which, judiciously
invested, will defray my expenses in Europe, where living is cheaper than
in this country. Mr. Young has taken charge of the money for me, and has
kindly offered to attend to my remittances. Aunt Ruth's friends, the
Richardsons, consented to wait for me until after the opening of the
Exhibition of the Academy of Design, and one week from to-morrow we expect
to sail."

"What do you know of the family?"

"Nothing, except that the lady, who is an old friend of my aunt, is
threatened with consumption, and has been advised to spend a year or two in
Florence. Aunt Ruth t