Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1850-07-25

upon the aftiet and fix his mind upon one grand
object, was too strong for Vandyke. His spir-
1t was too much moved-too much engaged
and interested in the inward emotion, to give
u outward expression. His soul was absorbed
IN the ideal which filled and peopled his fancy,
and 1t refused to guide his hand in its attempts
at deiineatlon, so that he failed to convey to
canvass rescript of the picture which his
mind saw He passed day ip vain and futile
trials, and night surprised him, sadly and cold
ly standing before his easel, and striving in
vain to trace that fugitive resemblance that
haunted his imagination.
From the moment that he quilted the palace,
all the jests and mocking glances of her com
panions had been directed towards poor Mary.
and they paid her back surcharge of scorn
and envious raillery for the preference and
praises bestowed upon her by the young paint
er. AT last, on the evening of the succeeding
day, the gay throng broke up, and all seemed
to have banished the memory Of the plebian ar
tist from their minds; but Mary treasured one
| fond recollection in her warm and gentle heart.
and the name Of Vandyke mingled that night
In her prayers, and the last thought that haunt
ed her waking moments was thought Of him
1t was midnight, and thousand stars spark
led In the vault of heaven. Silence brooded
over the mighty city, while sleep waved his
mysterious and potent sceptre over the hrows
of slumboring king and beggari No voice
broke the stiffness of the night-the very wind
seemed 70 whisper as it stole slowly through
| the long corridors of the palace, and the open
arches of the old closters-and the few lights
that were hung in the piazzas and lobbies
seemed to wink sleepily as they but half il
lumined the vast and solitary building. One
lamp, suspended in the outer gateway, seemed
to be more lively than the red foggv cressets
which cempaaioDel it, and it threw its rays on
the bnilding where Vandyke lodged, as if it
looked with interest upon the old solitary ruin.
which, sad and solemn, seemed TO pray
amongst the loneliness Of lis own crumbIing
desolation. Suddenly window of the palace
opened, and figure wrapped in the loose,
white drapery Of slumber, appeared upon the
balcony. Silent and swift as shadow, the
solitary and secret night-wanderer glided to-
wards the grand stair, and, rapidly descending
the steps fitted across the great square, and
was lost in the shade of the piazza. With the
confidence of one who well knew the localities,
the spectre passed through long passage, and
, issued from little door into the galleries Of
! the chapel, in Q few instants she had trayers-
| ed their solitary passage, and found the studio
of the painter, whose floor she swiftly crossed
! without seeming to notice anything around
her, and, approaching an old carved oaken
chair sat down before The easel of the painter
The youth had stood for long time b. fore
his canvass in state of deep abstraction He
had strlven in vain to impress upon the surface
before him the thoughts that filled his fancy
Around him lay models and half finished
works in all forms of artistic confusion; and
from the ceiling of his apartment hung a large
iron cresset, from which strong light and
shadow were thrown npon himself and the
other objects in his apartments. As the rays
of the lamp irradiated his face fHll of disap-
pointment, and his handsome form half bent in
an attitude of weariness, he might have been
taken for model Of Adonis, contemplating the
paltry results of a long and ,oilsome chase
As the calm, composed and beautiful vision
however, seated herself before him, he started
from bis reverie and gased, half in wondering
admiration and half in fear, upon the unlocked
| for yisitant. The unfortunate artist 50 sad, 81
hopeless but few minutes ago, could scarcely
believe the reality of the sight, which. modest
and beautiful as an angel, was before him.
He looked upon the celestial form of Mary
| Ruihven. which, in silent and breathing beapty
now sat as model, but he had scarcely power
to move as he gazed upon her. If she had
come 10 fill the measure of his ambition, and
like his guardian angel, to m.nister to his suc.
cess and Rlary, he dii not seem 10 have at this
moment the courage or ability To profit by heI
condescensipn he looked upon her, at this irl-
stant. as dovutee, and not as an artist He
fixed his eyes tenderly upon her face, but she
did not seem TO feel the electric ardor Of bis
glance, and not feature changed in her lovely
countenance. At last all the vigor Of his gen
ius stirred his heart with gratitude, and he
threw himself IN his knees before the maiden
to thank her, when, with dgnified sign, she
motioned towards his easel. Her face was il
lnmined with an expression so pure and full Of
of the vision in the plenitude Of its beauty, he
seized his pencils, and, lost in the regions Of
fancy, he wrought with all the ability and sue
cess that inspiration might have been supposed
to vouchsafe to his genius. The youth, who,
despair, thrown down at his feet the instru-
ments of his art, seemed filled with new life.
The artist had again risen superior to the man,
and mute, almost afraid to breathe, vet strength
ened by an unknown power, he saw rise be-
meath his creative hand in few hours the love-
hest and purest of his virgins. The maiden
seemed to perceive that the artist had accom-
plished his work; for, as he stood wrapt in .i.
lent contemplation before his easel, and smiled
upon the picture, she rose, and in silent, bu,
stately dignity, glided from the apartment, and
left the young painter alone. With fixed and
wondering gaze, suppressed breathing and
flushed countenance, the youth, as if fixed tt