Clara, as has been seen, fell into a thoughtful, sober state of mind, after the interview with her husband, in which she mentioned the fact of having five thousand dollars in stocks. Something in the manner of Alfred troubled her slightly. When he came home in the evening she experienced, in meeting him, the smallest degree of embarrassment; yet sufficient for him to perceive. Like an inflamed eye to which even the light is painful, his morbid feelings were susceptible of the most delicate impressions. A mutual reserve, unpleasant to both, was the consequence. Ellison imagined that his wife had, on reflection, become satisfied of his baseness in seeking to obtain her hand in marriage because of her possession of property, and the change in his manner which this feeling produced, naturally effected a change in her. From that time their intercourse became embarrassed, and both were unhappy.

A few days after Clara had informed her husband of the fact that she possessed five thousand dollars in stocks, she brought him the certificates which she held, and placing them in his hands, said,

“You must take care of these now.”

“What are they?” he asked, affecting an ignorance that did not exist, for the instant his eyes rested on the papers he understood what they were.

“Certificates of the stock about which I told you.”

Ellison handed them back quickly, and with a manner that could not but wound the feelings of his wife, saying at the same time,

“Oh, no, no! I don’t want them. Draw the interest yourself as you have been doing.”

“I have no further need of the money,” replied Clara, in a voice that had acquired a sudden huskiness. “Our interests are one you know, Alfred, and you take care of these matters now.”

But, the young man, acting under a perverse and blind impulse, positively refused to keep the certificates.

“I’d rather you would draw the money as you have been doing,” said he, his voice much softened and his manner changed. “It may be weakness in me, but I feel sensitive on this subject.”

Ellison’s evil genius seemed to have him in possession.

“On what subject?” inquired Clara, in a tone of surprise.

“On the subject of your property,” replied Ellison, with a want of delicacy the very opposite of his real character.

If a cold hand had been laid upon the bosom of Clara, she could not have experienced a more sudden chill. She made no reply. Ellison perceived, in an instant, the extent of his error. Like a man struggling in the mire, every moment seemed but to plunge him deeper. A more painful reserve followed this brief but unhappy interview. Deeply did the young man regret not having taken the certificates when they were handed to him. That was his only right course. But they were presented unexpectedly, and the first suggestion which came was that the act was more compulsory than voluntary on the part of his wife.

The subject was not alluded to again, but it was scarcely for a moment out of the thoughts of either Clara or her husband. When the half-yearly interest became due, which was in the course of a week, Clara drew the money. It amounted to the sum of one hundred and fifty dollars.

“You will not refuse this, I hope?” said she smiling, as she handed him what she had received. “It is the half-yearly interest on our stock.”

Alfred was a little wiser by experience.

“I have no particular use for it just now,” was his reply. “Suppose you keep it and pay our board every week as long as it lasts. Twenty-four dollars will be due to-morrow.”

“Very well, just as you like, Alfred. If you should want any of it, you must help yourself. You will find it in my drawer.”

“I’ll call on you if I should get out of pocket,” was replied to this in a playful tone of voice.

Both felt relieved. But it grew out of the fact that Ellison had been able to disguise his real feelings, and this was but a false security. There was a certainty, however, about the means of paying the weekly charge for boarding, that was a great relief to the mind of Ellison, and which enabled him the better to hide his real feelings from his wife. Happily for him, the four pictures which had been talked about were ordered. He completed them in about five weeks, and received two hundred dollars, the price agreed upon. One hundred of this sum he paid to the friend who had loaned him the money to lift the obligation that was felt to be so oppressive. Fifty of what remained he placed in the hands of Clara, playfully saying to her as he did so, that she must be his banker. The remark was timely and well expressed, and it had its effect both upon his own mind and that of his wife. But the source of trouble lay too deep to be easily removed.

Seek to disguise it as he would, Ellison could not hide from himself the fact, that he had suffered a great disappointment. Often and often, would come back upon him his old dream of the sunny clime of art and music, and he would feel the old, irrepressible longing to visit the shores of Italy. At last, it was some months after his marriage, he said to Clara, something favoring the remark—

“I don’t think I shall ever be happy until I have seen the galleries of Rome and Florence.”

Clara looked surprised at this remark, it was so unexpected, for no intimation of such a feeling had ever been breathed ere this by her husband.

“Why do you wish to go there?” she naturally inquired.

“To took upon the glorious old masters,” replied Ellison. “I will never be any thing in my art until I have studied them.”

“You think too meanly of your present attainments,” said Clara. “N—— has been to Italy, but with all his study of the old masters he has not half the ability as an artist that you possess.”

“It isn’t in him, Clara,” replied Ellison with some warmth. “He might study in the galleries of Florence forever, and not make a painter.”

“There are many specimens and copies of the old masters in our city,” remarked Clara, “could you not find aid from studying them?”

“No, no—or at least but little,” said Ellison coldly. He had hoped that his wife would feel favorable, at least, to a visit to Italy, even though it might not at the time be practicable. But her evident opposition to the thing chilled his over-sensitive feelings.

“Ah me!” sighed the young artist to himself, when alone, “I am free in nothing!”

Other thoughts were coming into utterance, but he checked and drove them back. As for Clara, she was utterly unconscious of what was in the mind of her husband. Could she have understood his real feelings, she would have sacrificed even her natural prudence and forethought, and cheerfully proposed to sell the stock they possessed in order that they might visit Italy and spend a year or two in that classic region. But a reserve had already been created, and Ellison, in particular, kept secret more than half of what was passing in his mind, while he imagined his wife to have thoughts and feelings to which she was a total stranger. He said no more about Italy, for it was plain to him that she would oppose the measure if suggested; and, as she had brought him a few thousands, she of course had a right to object.

Fortunately for the young artist, the four pictures which he had painted gave excellent satisfaction. In fact, they were his best works. The mind, when smarting under pain, often acts with a higher vigor, while the perceptions acquire a new intensity; and this was the real secret of his better success. The pictures pleased so well that they brought him other sitters, and he was able, some time before Clara’s instalment of interest was exhausted, to place more money in her hands. The fact of doing this was always a relief to his mind. It was a kind of tacit declaration of independence. From that time both his work and his ability increased, and he was able to make enough to meet, with the aid of his wife’s income, the various expenses to which he was subjected, and to pay off the few obligations that were held against him. But he was not happy. No man can be who forfeits, by any act that affects the whole of his after life, his self-respect; and this Ellison had done. In spite of his better judgment, he would permit himself to see in Clara’s words, looks and conduct, a rebuke of the mercenary spirit that first led him to seek her favor. Nothing of this was in her heart. But guilt makes the mind suspicious.

——