“There is much between thee and me, Florinda,” said her companion, sighing heavily; “and of a metal worse than all others-pride and gold! jailors both of the daring heart!”

“Nay, dear Carlton, thou art ever foreboding ills,” said the lady persuasively, and in a voice as sweet as that of the idolized Pagoda Thrush of India.

“Perhaps so; and yet full well I know that I am no favorite of fortune, by stern experience.”

“She will smile on thee yet, believe me, Carlton; and the more sweetly for this seeming neglect.  She’s a fickle goddess, and often plays the coquette, but, like others of this class, she seldom chides but she smiles again the more winningly.”

“She has already done so through thee, Florinda.”

Florinda answered with her eyes.

“Ah, I am blessed indeed in thee; and poorly do I appreciate the blessing of thy love, when I forget myself and complain.”

“Now thou art content.”

“In thy smiles, dearest, ever.”

And Carlton pressed the hand with fervor to his lip that was smilingly extended towards him.

“Ah, how long it may be, before I can call this little hand mine.”

“It is thine already, Carlton.”

“Thy heart is, I trust; but the hand, Florinda, is quite another thing.”

“True, Carlton.”

“My means are so humble.”

“You would make them so.”

“But are they not, Florinda?”

“Not in my eyes.”

“The future looks dark to me.”

“The great proficiency you have attained in your profession, as an artist, dear Carlton, argues well for our hopes.  Already has thy name reached the Grand Duke as one of remarkable ability in thy noble art; and such constant attention and unwearied industry must ensure improvement.”

“True, dearest, I may in time hope to be counted, a worthy follower of those whose noble efforts grace the grand gallery, and the halls of the Palazzo Pitti; but alas, many years of toil might not place me in the pecuniary eye of the duke, as a fitting suitor for thy peerless portion.  And then, Florinda, the pride of birth!  Alas!  I have little hopes of ever attaining my most earnest wish-that which would render me the envy of all Florence-thy hand, Florinda.”

“Have I not possessions enough for both of us, dear Carlton?  Indeed, I am told that my rightful property bears a goodly proportion to that of the Grand Duke himself, who has the reputation here in Florence of possessing unbounded wealth-actually unequalled in amount by that of any European monarch.  Until the prospect of aiding you by this amplitude of fortune occurred to my mind, I saw no value in this boasted wealth; but now that I know that you will be benefited by it, Carlton, I rejoice at its possession and its magnitude.”

“Dearest,” said the artist, as he listened to her generous declaration.

“There will be no want, no question of necessity; all shall be yours.”