Exclaimed Auburn, at the same time casting an admiring glance upon his easel, where a young and lovely face peeped forth from the canvas with such a roguish, bewitching look, as seemed to laugh to scorn the bold defiance of the young painter.

“No! painting shall be my mistress,” he continued, “my pallet and brush my defence against the witcheries of the fair; for me there is no peril in a lady’s eyes; my heart is an impregnable castle—no admittance there, fair lady.”

“Most wisely and heroically said!” exclaimed a young girl, who had stood for some moments at the elbow of the artist unobserved, now suddenly bursting into a merry laugh, and placing herself before him. “Bravo, Harry, you are, indeed, a hero!”

“Pshaw! Kate, who would have thought you so near!” cried Auburn, reddening with vexation.

“Alas! coz, my heart already aches for those unhappy damsels who will be sueing for admittance at that impregnable castle of yours,” continued the young girl, with mock gravity.

“Have mercy, do—you have overheard my nonsense, now pray spare me; for, after all, Kate, if I should ever fall off from my allegiance, here is the face would tempt me,” pointing as he spoke to the easel.

“Indeed! what a vain fellow you are, Harry. I suppose you think I should make a humble courtesy for this concession in my favor. It is well you leave the city to-morrow, or I should be tempted to set my cap at you, and boldly revenge the sex. I don’t think,” she added, archly, “I should find the castle invincible.”

“You are a dear girl, Kate, I know that,” answered Auburn; “but come, take your seat at once—you have just the expression now I have so often tried to catch, to make your picture perfect. There—don’t move—no more raillery for at least five minutes—so shut your mouth.”

For five minutes, then, the work went rapidly on, when, springing triumphantly from his chair, Auburn exclaimed,

“There, coz, it is done! not a feature but is perfect. Come, judge for yourself, if it is not to the life.”

Kate admitted the correctness of her cousin’s pencil, and then added,

“You had best unsay that rash oath of yours, however; for I have come to summon you to tea this evening, where you will meet one whose slightest glance will subdue at once your boasted intrepidity.”

“I have no fears, Kate, yet must decline; as I have already several engagements on hand for the evening.”

“Better own that, coward-like, you shun the encounter—and well you may; for, ah, Harry, such a charming girl!”

“Who is she?—have I ever seen her?”

“Seen her! and yet ask that question. Why you cool, self-satisfied fellow! Think you, you could have asserted such heresy as just now fell from your lips had you ever met my lovely friend?”

“But you have not yet told me the name of your paragon.”

“No—nor shall I, in revenge for your obstinacy. But here I sit chatting with you when ma’ma is waiting for me at home. I suppose, my dainty cousin, you will condescend to be my escort.”

“And esteem myself most fortunate, I assure you, to enjoy that privilege.”

Arm in arm, therefore, they then proceeded to the street, and were soon immerged with the gay, moving throng up Broadway.

Leaving Kate at the door of her father’s residence, in the upper part of the city, Auburn turned and strolled leisurely down this great thoroughfare of fashion. And no small ordeal is it for a bachelor, let him be even as inexorable to all the fascinations of beauty as Auburn has declared himself to be—no small thing is it to pass unscathed along this rendezvous of fair foes. It was really provoking, however, to see with what an air of nonchalance he suffered many a graceful, lovely form to flit by him; and sweet young faces, which ought to have set his heart beating, and eyes which should have dazzled by their brilliancy; to see their claims to admiration so stubbornly unrecognized would have tried the patience of any reasonable man.

Absorbed in his own reflections, Auburn proceeded slowly en route down Broadway, until attracted by some gem of art displayed at the window of Colman, he stopped for some moments to admire it, with several other loungers like himself. Turning suddenly to pursue his walk, he found himself very awkwardly vis-À-vis two young ladies. He stepped quickly on one side to allow of their passing—most provokingly, they did the same, and in the same direction; with a half-uttered apology, and in much confusion, Auburn again attempted to give them the pave; but now, hemmed in by the crowd, egress either way seemed impossible; and thus the three, so awkwardly drawn together, remained very foolishly, (I speak only for the artist,) looking at each other. There was a spice of mischief, too, mingling with the half-repressed smiles of the young girls, which only added to his embarrassment. In a moment, however, the multitude passed on, and with another glance at our plainly perplexed hero, they did the same.

But not from the mind of Auburn did they thus easily glide away. Why throbs his heart thus tumultuously? What sends the sudden thrill through his frame? Those persons less charitable than ourselves, considerate reader, might deem the impregnable fortress of the valiant artist already undermined by Cupid’s random shot.

“Heavens, what divine eyes!” suddenly occurred to Auburn, as very slowly he passed on his way.

“What a lovely mouth—how much expression!” and his step became still slower and slower.

“Fancy never formed aught half so lovely!” Here he paused, undeterminate; then exclaiming almost audibly, “I must see her again, I must know who it is whose breathing charms so far excel even the painter’s art.” He suddenly turned, and swiftly retraced his steps, hoping to overtake the one fair enslaver; for so decisive had been the attraction of the taller of the two girls, that the other, had she been fair as Venus, or even ugly as Hecate, the result would have been the same.

On, on rushes the busy throng—a ceaseless tide of human hopes and worldly ambition, cares and disappointments; and on, on presses Auburn. At length he catches a glimpse of that charming figure; not for an instant does he doubt its identity—so on, on he presses, while nearer, still nearer to his eager vision floats the white robe of the pursued. Small respect has he for persons, as he elbows his way through the crowd. Bravo! his aim is now accomplished, and close behind the unconscious maidens he follows in their dainty footsteps. Trinity was open, and into its holy aisles the young girls passed, nor did our hero hesitate to follow. Choosing a seat which commanded a view of the pew into which they had entered, he remained unobserved, gazing upon the object of his sudden passion.

She was beautiful, at least in his eyes, and evidently young. Her dress, more marked for its uniform simplicity than fashionable display, while her manner, at once so earnest and sincere during the sacred rites, might well rebuke the inappropriate thoughts of Auburn within that holy pile, who, in short, during those few brief moments, quaffed deeply of love’s soul-entrancing draught.

The services over, the two girls left the church, still followed by Auburn. A thousand rash resolves floated through his dizzy brain. He would address them; he would even boldly declare the interest awakened; he would demand in return the name of the fair one. O, that some lucky chance, or mischance, might call forth the offer of his services. Why might they not be terrified by the cry of “mad dog,” or nearly run over by some careless cab-man; any thing, in fact, short of absolute death, so that he might attract their notice. But, to his great chagrin, nothing of this kind seemed likely to happen. Like two beautiful swans, side by side, gracefully glided the fair ones along, until reaching the corner of a fashionable street, they turned down. Auburn was about to do the same, his heart leaping at the thought of discovering at least the residence of his fair enslaver, when his arm was suddenly seized, and a good-humored voice exclaimed,

“Ha! my dear fellow, I am glad to meet you! I have been looking all over town for you; but whither so fast? Stop, I want to say a word to you.”

“Not just now, Evans—I—I—the fact is I am engaged—I—”

“Engaged!—how?—where?” continued his friend, holding on perseveringly to his arm. “Come, I want you to go with me; but what are you looking at—who do you see?” following the direction of Auburn’s eyes eagerly straining down C—— street.

“No one,” answered Auburn, in a tone of vexation; for, alas! in that very moment, when his attention had been unavoidably given to his friend, the fair vision had disappeared, and, like a vision, “left not a rack behind.”

——