pastures new.

A few days later the handsome Van Dyck--with a goodly purse of gold,
passports complete, and saddlebags well filled with various letters of
introduction to Rubens' Italian friends--followed by a cart filled with
his belongings, started gaily away, bound for the land where art had its
birth.

"With Italy--with Italy I can win all!" he kept repeating to himself as
he turned his horse's head to the South.

* * * * *

The first day's ride took the artistic traveler to the little village of
Saventhem, five miles from Brussels. Here he turned aside long enough to
say good-by to a fair young lady, Anna Van Ophem by name, whom he had met
a few months before at Antwerp.

He rode across the broad pasture, entered the long lane lined with
poplars, and followed on to the spacious old stone mansion in the grove
of trees.

Anna herself saw him coming and came out to meet him. They had not been
so very well acquainted, but the warmth of a greeting all depends upon
where it takes place. It was lonely for the beautiful girl there in the
country: she welcomed the handsome young painter-man as though he were a
long-lost brother, and proudly introduced him to her parents.

Instead of a mere call he was urged to put up his horse and remain
overnight; and a servant was sent out to find the man who drove the cart