"I thought you were not in a hurry."
"Not in the least, my friend; but when you get that finished, you can paint others, which I can probably dispose of for you."
"You are very kind."
"I speak as a business man," said Sandford, in a lower tone, at which Marcia withdrew. "The arts fare badly in time of a money panic, and all the pictures you can sell now will be clear gain."
"Are there signs of a panic?"
"Decidedly; the rates of interest are advancing daily, and no one knows where it will end. Unless there is some relief in the market by Western remittances, the distress will be wide-spread and severe."
"I am obliged to you for the hint. I have two or three pictures nearly done."
"I will look at them in a day or two, and try to find you purchasers."
Greenleaf expressed his thanks, warmly, and then walked towards Mrs.
Sandford, who was sitting alone at that moment.
"There is no knowing what Marcia may do," thought Sandford; "I have never seen her when she appeared so much in earnest,—infatuated like a candle-fly. I hope she won't be fool enough to marry a man without money. These artists are poor sheep; they have to be taken care of like so many children. At all events, it won't cost much to keep him at work for the present. Meanwhile she may change her mind."