glossy, golden hair; and his eyes are large and blue, and the lashes curl on his cheek like heavy fringes.  He is too pale and too thin:  he looks sadly delicate; but his wretched mother was a delicate little creature, and he has doubtless inherited a world of disease and poor blood from her.  I wish he was here though, for you to see; but I keep him at school, for when he is much with me, I feel myself beginning to be interested in him; and I do not wish to love him—­I do not wish to remember him at all!  With that delicate frame and nervous temperament, he must die; and why should I prepare fresh sorrow for myself, by taking him into my heart, only to have him plucked out again by death?’

All this was said with the most passionate vehemence of manner, as if she were defending herself against some unjust charge.  I said something in the way of remonstrance.  Gently and respectfully, but firmly, I spoke of the necessity for each soul to spiritualise its aspirations, and to raise itself from the trammels of earth; and in speaking thus to her, I felt my own burden lighten off my heart, and I acknowledged that I had been both foolish and sinful in allowing my first disappointment to shadow all the sunlight of my existence.  I am not naturally of a desponding disposition, and nothing but a blow as severe as the non-success of my ’Finding the Body of Harold by Torch-light’ could have affected me to the extent of mental prostration as that under which I was now labouring.  But this was very hard to bear!  My companion listened to me with a kind of blank surprise, evidently unaccustomed to the honesty of truth; but she bore my remarks patiently, and when I had ended, she even thanked me for my advice.

‘And now, tell me the cause of your melancholy face?’ she asked, as we were nearing Birmingham.  ’Your story cannot be very long, and I shall have just enough time to hear it.’

I smiled at her authoritative tone, and said quietly:  ’I am an artist, madam, and I had counted much on the success of my first historical painting.  It has failed, and I am both penniless and infamous.  I am the “presumptuous dauber” of the critics—­despised by my creditors—­emphatically a failure throughout.’

‘Pshaw!’ cried the lady impatiently; ’and what is that for a grief? a day’s disappointment which a day’s labour can repair!  To me, your troubles seem of no more worth than a child’s tears when he has broken his newest toy!  Here is Birmingham, and I must bid you farewell.  Perhaps you will open the door for me?  Good-morning:  you have made my journey pleasant, and relieved my ennui.  I shall be happy to see you in town, and to help you forward in your career.’

And with these words, said in a strange, indifferent, matter-of-fact tone, as of one accustomed to all the polite offers of good society, which mean nothing tangible, she was lifted from the carriage by a train of servants, and borne off the platform.