I am told it is a master-piece, by some gentleman who appears not anxious that his brilliant artistical powers shall be published, as his name never accompanies his works, and the piece in question was but by accident, brought to public view.  It hangs, among others, in his fine gallery of paintings, and is hung with a heavy drapery of black, which was by chance removed by a gentleman, a friend of mine, who offered a handsome fortune at once for the prize; but his rich offer was declined by the owner, who, to the gentleman’s earnest desire that he might become its possessor, replied,—­’sir, that bit of inanimate canvas is all upon which my weary life feeds! were you to offer me the wealth of the world, I would not part with that one small picture! neither can I be wrought upon to produce a copy of the same, without violating feelings which are sacred.’  Whether this is a fancy piece, or if it bears the semblance of some one of his kindred, my friend did not inform me, as he said his very tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, as the sad artist spoke those few deep-toned words.  I have not myself seen this wonder, and whether I might be thus warm in my praises is a question, as you know I am insensible to female beauty, if I may judge by remarks which from time to time have come to my ear, in past years, from estimable mothers, whose beautiful daughters ought to have called forth my glowing sentiments; ‘but that which is wanting cannot be numbered,’” said he, stealing an arch glance at Natalie.

“I have not seen this painting,” replied Natalie, her countenance lighting up with a new thought, “but I have several times visited the artist’s rooms, though I have never been so fortunate as to get sight of the mysterious connoisseur.  Those who have met him, describe him as being a middle-aged gentleman, of foreign birth, very marked in his polite, graceful manners; yet there appears to be a great mystery hanging about him, and some have ventured to remark that his is no common history, that he is not merely what he pretends,—­an obscure artist! there is that about his bearing which denotes high birth.  I have admired his talent displayed, and must see this remarkable production; for you know I am a great admirer of female beauty.”

That night, Natalie mused over the events of the day,—­the contents of the letter which she had received, were first in her mind.  Her mother had expressed an earnest desire to see her child once more; among other things, she had briefly made mention of a matter in regard to their pecuniary affairs,—­quite a little sum of the comfortable fortune which Capt.  Grosvenor had, by dint of the many perils at sea, accumulated, had been lost in a recent bank failure;—­a failure, as Mrs. Grosvenor stated, which had proved a source of poverty to many a family, upon their little island; many a widow had been obliged to part with the last dollar, which had been earned by the seafaring husband, who had never returned to share the benefit