before a blazing fire in a magnificent drawing-room, surrounded with
every comfort that hospitality could offer or luxury invent.

'Here, at least, is happiness,' I thought, as I saw the family
assemble in the drawing-room before dinner. 'Here are beauty, youth,
wealth, position--all that makes life valuable. What concealed
skeleton can there be in this house to frighten away one grace of
existence? None--none! They must be happy; and oh! what a contrast to
that poor lady I met with to-day; and what a painful contrast to
myself!'

And all my former melancholy returned like a heavy cloud upon my brow;
and I felt that I stood like some sad ghost in a fairy-land of beauty,
so utterly out of place was my gloom in the midst of all this gaiety
and splendour.

One daughter attracted my attention more than the rest. She was the
eldest, a beautiful girl of about twenty-three, or she might have been
even a few years older. Her face was quite of the Spanish style--dark,
expressive, and tender; and her manners were the softest and most
bewitching I had ever seen. She was peculiarly attractive to an
artist, from the exceeding beauty of feature, as well as from the
depth of expression which distinguished her. I secretly sketched her
portrait on my thumb-nail, and in my own mind I determined to make her
the model for my next grand attempt at historical composition--'the
Return of Columbus.' She was to be the Spanish queen; and I thought of
myself as Ferdinand; for I was not unlike a Spaniard in appearance,
and I was almost as brown.

I remained with my friend a fortnight, studying the midnight effects