e brushes beside it, seeming to have been just
now in use, gave reason to conjecture that the occupant of the room
was not far off.

William, forgetting that he had not rung the bell, wondered why no one
came to the door, and half attracted by the view of a painter's room,
and half urged by the wish to find some one to whom he could deliver
his message, he cleared the steps at a bound, and stood before the
open door. He looked within; no one was there; and as he stood he
could plainly see the picture, which was a Scripture subject. Was it
wrong that he ventured, the shoemaker's boy with a painter's heart,
step by step quite within the precincts of that chamber? So lost in
pleasant observation was he, so perfectly guileless, he never once
thought that, however innocent, his motive for intruding might be
mistaken. He stood rapt and immovable before the picture, forgetful of
everything but his present enjoyment, so that he did not hear the
opening of a door behind him, nor that a footstep was approaching.

It was Mr. Stewart himself, who, having left his studio but a few
minutes before, was now returning to his work; and as his eyes fell
upon this unexpected guest, he at first was disposed to believe him
some young vagabond who had come in to pilfer. But the statue-like
attitude of the boy, the fixed look with which he surveyed the
picture, and the gaiter boots which dangled by their connecting string
from his arm, his whole appearance making him a fit subject for study,
soon banished suspicion, and with all the sympathies of a most
benevolent nature aroused, he stood silent for a moment, for he
hesitated to disturb so visible an enjoyment.

But as there was no knowing how long the survey might last, he at
length advanced, and touching our little shoemaker on the shoulder,
said, in a playful tone, "Why, boy, you must love pictures as well as
does a painter; have you not been dreaming long enough? Tell me, now,
what brought you here?"

Fully aroused, William turned to answer and apologize; but when he
looked into the face of the gentleman before him the words died on his
lips. Mr. Stewart himself was not without astonishment, as, when
William pulled off his cap, he recognised the features of the orphan
boy in whose grief he had long ago sympathized so deeply, and he once
more spoke.

"I believe we have seen each other before," said he; "are you not the
boy I met in the grave-yard at M----?"

"Yes, sir," answered Wil