The young artist worked on with untiring assiduity—he was toiling for independence. Never, since his marriage, had he breathed the air with the freedom of former times. The reaction of his often strange manner—his days of reserve—had been felt by his wife, and the effect upon her was plainly to be seen. With a perverseness of judgment, hardly surprising under the circumstances, he attributed the change in Clara to her suspicions as to the purity of his motives in seeking an alliance. In the meantime, he had become more intimately acquainted with her relatives, none of whom he liked very well. Her oldest brother interfered a good deal in the suit which he was engaged in defending on behalf of his wife; and by much that he said, left the impression that he did not think Ellison’s judgment sound enough in business matters to advise a proper course of action.

This fretted the sensitive and rather irritable young man, and, in a moment when less guarded than usual, he told him that he felt himself fully competent to manage his own affairs, and hoped that he would not, in future, have quite so much to say about things that did not concern him. The brother was passionate, and stung Ellison to the quick by a retort in which he plainly enough gave it as his opinion that before five years had gone by, his sister’s property would all be blown to the winds through his mismanagement. This was little less than breaking Ellison on the wheel. He turned quickly from his cool, sneering opponent, and never spoke to him afterward. Piqued, however, by the taunt, he proposed to Clara that they should visit the West, and remain there for as long a time as it was necessary to personally look after their interests. He could paint there as well as at the East; and might possibly do better for a time. To this Clara’s only objection was the necessity that it would involve for disposing of some of their stock, in order to meet the expense of removal, and the sustaining of themselves, if Alfred should not readily obtain employment as an artist, thus lessening the amount of their certain income.

“But see how much is at stake,” replied Alfred. “All may be lost for lack of a small sacrifice.”

“True,” said Clara, in instant acquiescence. “You are right.”

But when the proposed movement of Ellison and his wife became known, her relatives had a good deal to say about it. George Deville, the oldest brother, whose feelings now led him to oppose any thing that he thought originated with Alfred, pronounced it as preposterous.

“Why don’t Ellison go himself?” said he. “What does he expect to gain by dragging Clara out there?”

“You surely are not going off to Ohio on such an expedition,” was his language to his sister.

“Yes,” she replied to him, mildly, “I am going.”

“What folly!” he exclaimed.

“George,” said Clara, in a firm, dignified manner, “I must beg of you not to interfere in any way between my husband and myself. In his judgment I am now to confide, and I do it fully. We think it best to go and see personally after our own interests.”

“But Clara—”

“Pardon me, George,” interrupted the sister, “but I must insist on your changing the subject.”

Deville became angry at this, and as he turned to go away, said something about her being beggared by her “husband’s fooleries,” in less than five years.

It so happened that Ellison entered at this moment, and heard the insulting remark. It was with an effort that he kept himself from flinging the brother, in a burst of unrestrained passion, from the room. But he controlled himself, and recognised him only by an angry and defiant scowl. As Deville left the room, Clara burst into tears, and placing her hands over her face, stood weeping and sobbing violently. Alfred’s mind was almost mad with excitement. He did not speak to his wife at first, but commenced walking hurriedly about the room, sometimes throwing his arms over his head, and sometimes clasping his hands tightly across his forehead. But, in a little while, his thoughts went out of himself toward Clara, and he felt how deeply pained she must be by what had just occurred. This softened him. Approaching where she still stood weeping, he took her hand and said,

“We would have been happier, had you been penniless like myself.”

The tears of Clara ceased flowing almost instantly. In a few moments she raised her head, and looking seriously at her husband, asked,

“Why do you say that, Alfred?”

“No such outrage as the present could, in that case, ever have occurred.”

“If George thinks proper to interfere in a matter that does not in the least concern him, we need be none the less happy in consequence. I feel his words as an insult.”

“And so they are. But they do not smart on my feelings the less severely. Lose your property! He shall know better than that, ere five years have passed.”

“Don’t let it excite you so much, Alfred. His opinion need not disturb us.”

“It has disturbed you, even to tears.”

“It would not have done so, had not you happened to hear what he said. This was what hurt me. But as we have provoked no such interference as that which my brother has been pleased to make; and, as we are free to do what we think right, and competent to manage our own affairs, I do not see that we need feel very unhappy at what has occurred.”

“If you have any doubts touching the propriety of doing what I suggested, let us remain where we are,” said Ellison.

“I have no doubts on the subject,” was Clara’s quick reply. “I think that where so much property is in danger, that we ought to take all proper steps to protect our interests; and it is impossible for us to do this so well at a distance as we could if on the spot where the contest is going on. When you first proposed it, I did not see the matter so clearly as I do now.”

Preparations for a temporary removal to the West were immediately commenced; and in the course of a few weeks they were ready for their departure. There was not a single one of Clara’s relatives who did not disapprove the act, nor who did not exhibit his or her disapproval in the plainest manner. This, to Alfred, was exceedingly annoying, in fact, coming as it did on his already morbid and sensitive feelings, actually painful.

“They shall see,” he said to himself, bitterly, “whether I squander her property! If I don’t double it in five years, I’m sadly mistaken.”

This was uttered without there being any clearly defined purpose in the young man’s mind; but it was in itself almost the creation of a purpose. From that moment he became possessed with the idea of so using his wife’s property as to make it largely reproductive. He studied over it every day, and remained awake, with no other thought in his mind, long after he had laid his head upon his pillow at night.

With five hundred dollars in cash, obtained through the sale of five shares of stock, Ellison and his wife started for the West on the errand that we have mentioned. Clara looked for an early return, but Alfred left his native city with the belief that he would never go back there to reside; or if so, not for many years. Plans and purposes were dimly shadowing themselves forth in his mind, as yet too indistinct to assume definite forms, yet absorbing most of his thoughts. For the time all dreams of Italy faded, and in vague schemes of money-making, he forgot the glories of his art.

The place of their destination was a growing town, numbering about six thousand inhabitants. Near this lay the five hundred acres of land in dispute. On arriving, they took lodgings at a hotel, and, in due time, sent for the agent who had charge of the property. He informed them as to the state of affairs, and assured them that all was going on as safely as possible. The case had been called at the last term of court, but was put off for some reason, and would not be tried for three months to come, when they hoped to get a decision. If favorable or adverse, an appeal would be made, and a year might probably elapse before a final settlement of the questioned rights could be obtained.

Ellison hinted at their purpose in visiting the West. The agent said, in reply, that their presence would not in the least affect the case. It would be as safely managed if they were in Europe.

“That is all easily enough said,” remarked Alfred, after he was alone with his wife; “but I am disposed to think differently. Every man ought to understand his own business, and watch its progress.”

In this view Clara fully acquiesced; and they made their arrangements to reside in the West for at least some months to come. In the course of a week or two Ellison announced himself as an artist from the East, whose intention it was to pass a short time in D——. He arranged a studio, and made all needful preparation for sitters; but, during the first two months of his residence there, not an individual came forward to be painted. Expenses were going on at the rate of about fifteen dollars a week, with a good prospect of their being increased ere long. This was rather discouraging, and it may be supposed that the young artist was in no way comfortable under the circumstances. By this time he had become so well acquainted with the state of the case pending, as to be pretty well satisfied that his presence would be of no great utility in securing a favorable termination of the affair. If he had come to the West alone, a week’s personal examination of the position of things would have enabled him to see their entire bearing, and to understand that his presence was in no way necessary.

This conviction, to which the mind of Ellison came reluctantly, did not by any means help him to a better state of feeling. He had closed his studio at the East, just as he was beginning to get sitters enough to secure a pretty fair income, and was in a strange place, where people were yet too busy in subduing nature’s ruder features to think much of the arts. He was the only painter in town; yet he did not receive an order. Occasionally one and another called at his rooms, looked at his pictures, asked his prices, and talked about having some portraits taken. But it never went beyond this.