"But, without doubt, the picture which attracts most notice is the one which Mr. Raymond Leicester exhibits. We feel, as we study it, that we are gazing on the work of a great man, and a deservedly famous artist. He has not belied the early promise of his youth; and that man must have but little taste and good feeling who can move away, after the contemplation of this masterpiece, without feeling that he is the better for having seen it," &c.
The tears blinded Madge, so that she could read no more. But what more was there for her to read? The wish of her life was fulfilled. Raymond was a great artist—the world proclaimed him so—and he was her brother, her pride, and her glory.
"Little Madge," and Raymond's hand rested with its caressing touch upon her head, "I feel that I owe it all to you."
IN THE ROYAL ACADEMY.
"No, no," she answered, laying her hand upon his. "No, not to me—to Mr. Smith."
"Noble-hearted man!" said Raymond warmly; and then his voice sunk so low that only Madge could hear it. "I will go and ask for Lilian to-day."
"God speed you!" said Madge, smiling through her tears; "and papa and I will go and look at your picture in the Academy."
Anybody who had been in the Royal Academy that morning would have seen a feeble old man leaning on the arm of his daughter, lingering near the picture round which every one thronged. Madge was feasting on their praise of it, and repeating chosen bits to her father, who was very proud of his son now. It was a happy day to Madge, as she looked at the picture, and felt that Raymond was worthy of the praise that was bestowed upon it. She thanked God in her heart that he had spared Raymond's life, and allowed her to see this day.
Raymond gained Lilian for his wife, but he is "Madge's glory" still.