The morning sun shone in brightly upon a room, in one of those pleasantvillas which abound in the suburbs of London. A party were assembled atbreakfast--an old, infirm man, and his son and daughter. The old man wasMr. Leicester, and the other two were Raymond and Madge. Their fatherhad come back to them, broken down in health and spirits. Raymond methim accidentally in the streets of London, and brought him to the littlehome where he and Madge lived, and they had cared for him tenderly eversince.
We last saw Raymond and Madge almost as children; we find them now grownup. Raymond's character has deepened. He is a great artist, and a greatman also--for, added to the depth and strength of mind which the masteryof one subject gives, there were many noble traits in him--and many mennow feel themselves privileged if they call Raymond Leicester theirfriend.
Madge has the same character, and nearly the same face, as she had whena child. She is still Raymond's fireside genius, and a dutiful, tenderdaughter to her father.
But we were speaking of that sunshiny morning when they were atbreakfast. A newspaper lay by Raymond's side, and when he had sipped hiscoffee he unfolded it. "The Academy is open, Madge," he said quickly;then ran his eye down the long columns.
Madge looked up eagerly, and saw the deepening colour in his cheek as heread. She took up the paper as he laid it down, quickly found the place,and her heart bounded as she read:--
THE NOTICE IN THE NEWSPAPER.]
"But, without doubt, the picture which attracts most notice is the one which Mr. Raymond Leicester exhibits. We feel, as we study it, that we are gazing on the work of a great man, and a deservedly famous artist. He has not belied the early promise of his youth; and that man must have but little taste and good feeling who can move away, after the contemplation of this masterpiece, without feeling that he is the better for having seen it," &c.
The tears blinded Madge, so that she could read no more. But what morewas there for her to read? The wish of her life was fulfilled. Raymondwas a great artist--the world proclaimed him so--and he was her brother,her pride, and her glory.
"Little Madge," and Raymond's hand rested with its caressing touch uponher head, "I feel that I owe it all to you."
"No, no," she answered, laying her hand upon his. "No, not to me--to Mr.Smith."
"Noble-hearted man!" said Raymond warmly; and then his voice sunk so lowthat only Madge could hear it. "I will go and ask for Lilian to-day."
"God speed you!" said Madge, smiling through her tears; "and papa and Iwill go and look at your picture in the Academy."
Anybody who had been in the Royal Academy that morning would have seen afeeble old man leaning on the arm of his daughter, lingering near thepicture round which every one thronged. Madge was feasting on theirpraise of it, and repeating chosen bits to her father, who was veryproud of his son now. It was a happy day to Madge, as she looked at thepicture, and felt that Raymond was worthy of the praise that wasbestowed upon it. She thanked God in her heart that he had sparedRaymond's life, and allowed her to see this day.
IN THE ROYAL ACADEMY.]
Raymond gained Lilian for his wife, but he is "Madge's glory" still.