ide of the narrow chamber was covered
with shelves, which supported books in various languages, and though
chiefly on scientific subjects, not utterly confined to them. Among the
doctrines of the philosopher, and the golden rules of the moralist,
were also seen the pleasant dreams of poets, the legends of Spenser,
the refining moralities of Pope, the lofty errors of Lucretius, and the
sublime relics of our "dead kings of melody." [Shakspeare and Milton]
And over the hearth was a picture, taken in more prosperous days, of
one who had been and was yet to the tenant of that abode, better than
fretted roofs and glittering banquets, the objects of ambition, or
even the immortality of fame. It was the face of one very young and
beautiful, and the deep, tender eyes looked down, as with a watchful
fondness, upon the lucubrator and his labours. While beneath the window,
which was left unclosed, for it was scarcely June, were simple yet not
inelegant vases, filled with flowers,--

"Those lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave." [Herrick]

The writer was alone, and had just paused from his employment; he was
leaning his face upon one hand, in a thoughtful and earnest mood, and
the air which came chill, but gentle, from the window, slightly stirred
the locks from the broad and marked brow, over which they fell in thin
but graceful waves. Partly owing perhaps to the waning light of the
single lamp and the lateness of the hour, his cheek seemed very pale,
and the complete though contemplative rest of the features partook
greatly of the quiet of habitual sadness, and a little of the languor
of shaken health; yet the expression, despite the proud cast of the
brow and profile, was rather benevolent than stern or dark in its
pensiveness, and the lines spoke more of the wear and harrow of deep
thought than the inroads of ill-regulated passion.

There was a slight tap at the door; the latch was raised, and the
original of the picture I have described entered the apartment.

Time had not been idle with her since that portrait had been taken: the
round elastic figure had lost much of its youth and freshness; the step,
though light, was languid, and in the centre of the fair, smooth cheek,
which was a little sunken, burned one deep bright spot,--fatal sign to
those who have watched the progress of the most deadly and deceitful of
our national maladies; yet still the form and countena