270 The Portrait : a Sketch. [MARCH, 



He spoke little at first, except to thank us especially me, who had 

 been instrumental in preserving him. He was a Portuguese, but spoke 

 English with considerable fluency. 



" Many a time, Sir," said he, " have I cursed your country, but now 

 I bless it." 



" Cursed it !" echoed Armstrong. 



" Yes, Sir ; I'll not deny it nor need I. That girl whom you have 

 saved from a watery grave is my sister ; death perhaps would have been 

 a blessing to her and to me. Yet is it an appalling thing when it 

 comes." 



We wished for an explanation of this, but from delicacy were silent. 

 It came, however, of its own accord. A foreigner had fallen in love 

 with her married her and deserted her a few months after their nup- 

 tials. Her brother and she were in pursuit of him, and after tracing 

 through Spain, France, Italy, and Germany, had at length got a clue to 

 him to this country. The story was an exceedingly affecting one, and 

 proved the darkest obliquity of principle upon the part of the offender. 



Scarcely was it finished, when the landlady abruptly entered the 

 room 



" Gentlemen," said she, " what is to be done ?" 



" My sister !" exclaimed the young man, starting up in an agony of 

 apprehension. 



" Your sister is safe and well, Sir, and sound asleep, for what I 

 know, but there is another in the house who, if I mistake not, would 

 give all she is mistress of to be the occupant of her bed." 



At this moment we heard a shriek. It came from the room below. 

 Armstrong and I rushed down stairs, followed by the stranger and the 

 landlady. The cry was repeated. 



" He will use force !" exclaimed the landlady. I heard no more. I 



was foremost I burst open the door of the apartment. What were 



my emotions at beholding the mistress of my heart the fainting bride 

 of the morning on her knees before the man who had espoused her. He 

 was holding her. At sight of me she sprung upon her feet, and rushed 

 into my arms. 



" I will not be his wife !" she exclaimed. <f I have been forced to 

 the altar, I knew not what I did. It was mockery. I will not be his 

 wife. They deceived me into accompanying him. Deserted me, and 

 left me in his power. I will not be his wife !" 



He stood pale and trembling with rage. We all remained motion- 

 less, looking now at him, and now at one another. He cast his eyes 

 about the room, as if in search of something ; they rested upon a trunk 

 which lay upon one of the chairs he approached it opened it took 

 out a pair of pistols cocked them, and approached me. At this moment 

 the Portuguese rushed past me, and caught him by the throat. 



<f Villain !" exclaimed the Portuguese. The pistols fell on the ground. 

 They knew each other. Imagine the conclusion of the scene. Imagine 

 the scene that followed it in a month after, when I saw the Portrait in 

 my own room and the Original at my side my willing wife ! 



J. S. K. 



