June day touched him, and made him feel weak. He put his hand up to his forehead, as if to shelter himself from some invisible danger. The firm lines around his mouth relaxed, and left a hollow sinking.

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"O Claude!" and springing from her seat she clasped her soft arms about him, while her voice quivered, "if I am always to be your first thought, my very life would become hateful to me. I have some pride as well as you, and you shall not sacrifice yourself in everything. If you force me to it, I can take a desperate step, as you will see!"

A terror flickered up in his face, and he tried to unfasten the arms that almost strangled him.

"My darling, you don't know what you ask!"

The tone was resolute, but it sounded as if it came over depths of pain.

"Yes, I do! I do!"

The face was so lovely in its tears and vehemence; the tone faltering in little breaks, moved him as it rarely had before.

"I want you to have such a friend. This lonely life you are leading breaks my heart. I am willing, this day "Hush!" he said, in an awed and solemn tone.

"Whatever

I have done before, has been of my own free will. There is nothing to regret; but this

"Is done for my sake, as all the great acts of your life have been."

She knew then that he had yielded. And it seemed to him that he had taken something into his own life which must one day be put out again with great pain and suffering. A dim remembrance of another man who had offered him friendship, and when he looked for bread, he had found worse than a stone, thorns that stung. But some fate hurries us on, even when we would pause.

This was the note he glanced over again

"DEAR SIR: Ordinarily one refusal in the matter of acquaintance is sufficient, but in the present instance, though I may need an apology to bear me out in my presumption, I confess I am not satisfied with the possibly abrupt termination of our hardly-begun intercourse. It would afford me the sincerest pleasure to meet you. I do not say this from any idle curiosity. My interest in you is deeper than anything I have experienced for years. If, for any particular reason, you decline being known, except through Mr. Shultz, you will pardon my intrusion, and believe that henceforth I shall pay the strictest attention to your wishes. But if you can be induced to grant an interview, it will afford me a high degree of pleasure, and I think I can promise that you will not regret the permission.

"If I have exceeded the bounds of true courtesy, pardon me, and rest assured that it has arisen from my warm interest in you. If possible, grant my request; if not, consider me, truly, an unknown friend.

“To CLAUDE TRESORIER, Artist."

"You will write," she said.

"FELIX DANA.

As one in a dream, he wrote, making an appointment. He did not dare to muse over friend or pleasure, for he had thought them shut entirely out of his life. The path that he had marked out for himself was not to be interspersed with flowery meads. He mistrusted any desire for companionship, as if within its secret recesses lurked some dreaded foe.

II.

THE INTERVIEW.

SOME explanation is necessary before you can understand this matter of the letter. When Claude Tresorier came to the city an entire stranger, he had resolved with a courageous heart to work and wait. Without friends or influence, it was necessary to begin at the lowest round; and as his income was limited, he applied himself diligently to the less interesting but remunerative branches of art, spending now and then a few hours in taking lessons of a good master.

He succeeded passably well. I am not going to relate the discouragements, the trials, the hours of despondency that not unfrequently seized his heart, and held it in a grim, torturing clutch. There was that in his soul and in this home that kept him in one unswerving course; and when a man has learned to turn neither to the right nor the left, he has won half the battle. There was a quiet persistency that interested the master, and he would fain have learned more of his pupil, but there seemed nothing in the uneventful life to tell.

Presently he was recommended to an extensive picture dealer, and had gradually grown into the man's graces. One day he ventured to offer a landscape, which elicited some praise, and was finally sold. Then the head of a Madonna,

When this found a purchaser, Claude drew a breath of triumph. A keen sense of elation thrilled every nerve. It was no longer a contest at the far spear point, but a hand to hand fight; and he warmed with the conscious excitement, as one always must when the quick brain enters the arena and presses its way through material things, dashing down some strong obstacle

here, breaking through barriers that at first glance looked impassable, and achieving at last some sure footing. It is always these first steps that are the hardest and thorniest.

"You have never exhibited in the Academy," Mr. Shultz said, one morning. "Have you no ambition that way! ?" "No influence, which amounts to the same thing," answered artist.

the

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young

Ah, but do you care? Have you anything you could send ?” "Yes, I care," said Tresorier, with a sudden accession of boldness.

"It is too late to set about it now, I anything completed?"

suppose. Have you

"One or two landscapes, and Then he paused, for the breath seemed strangling him. A deep, luminous light flashed into his eyes. Shultz had seen it there, once or twice, in moments of great emotion.

"And what? Don't be afraid of me."

"A picture that has been my dream for months

I might say, Joan of Arc."

"Not a very good subject!'

two years

"Pardon me. I think it depends on the treatment."

There was a curious confidence in the artist's tone, far removed from any small vanity.

"I could enter something for you. An intimate friend of mine, one of the committee, bores me half to death for a new sensation. He purchased your Madonna, and that made me think of you. You cannot finish anything in time, then?"

66 If you would allow me to send you the Joan of Arc. But you have bestowed so many favors,"

The man laughed. He was a German, with a fair, goodhumored face, and a genial, light blue eye. Prosperous and happy himself, life appeared to broaden to him, and he took his fellow-men into his soul with a generosity that was most delightful. He had assisted several young artists over the path to easy going. So he said now, in his frank, kindly manner,

"Send the picture and I will give you my opinion. That is all I can promise at present."

"Thank you."

The artist bowed with unconscious reverence. Mr. Shultz was half his world.

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your

The picture was despatched to No., Broadway. Claude waited three days before he presented himself for the opinion. "My dear young friend, "- and there was something deeper than the usual cheery ring in the German's voice, tranquil manner of announcing your young damsel misled me wonderfully. As for the picture, it is in the Academy. Can you take greatness calmly, even if it should be thrust upon you?"

Claude smiled, but every pulse in his body thrilled with keenest pleasure.

"You liked it?" was all he could force through his quivering breath.

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Yes, I liked it; but that wasn't all. It surprised me. Tresorier, why do you keep at the drudgery of art?"

"For bread," was the brief answer.

"You committed a boy's folly in marrying; that being done, the bread is an urgent necessity. I wish you would take a studio in this neighborhood. Portrait painting isn't a bad thing. I take it that you have an aim in life, and the most important point is getting established. A man who could paint that Joan of Arc deserves to be known. I don't say that it is superior to everything, but it is a great stride. The expression. in that face is wonderful. And the rising flames, that just begin to crisp the ends of her hair, the nervous strength of the hands, that seem absolutely to demand divine assistance, tell a story one doesn't see every day on canvas. It has roused me into being enthusiastic, you see.'

"I don't know how to thank you for your favorable judgment," began Tresorier, his face fairly transfigured.

"Don't thank me at all. The exhibition may not advance