180 Turnasede Cottage.

history—that portrait of yourself, and the lake and
ruined castle?”

“He is right; they, too, are portions of my past,”
replied Mr. Hurst. “ Both were painted for me by
Rinaldi. The portrait was intended—it had another
destination when first it was done. But that came
to an end; it was not to be. SoI kept it (there
was none left to care for it) as a memorial of my
good Rinaldi. The landscape he gave me because
I liked it well. It is a scene in his own Italy, and
a type, he would say, of her condition—bcautiful
and desolate.”

“What became of him, sir?” I asked.

“Dead and gone; dead and gone!” said my
master. “ Our winters were too cold for him, and
one cold season he died. I was with him to the
last. Then I felt left alone indeed. My health
was broken. I had saved enough to live without
need of teaching. I cared not to remain in a place
where every lane and strect-corner reminded me of
mother, sister, or friend—all gone. My best pupils
needed me no more ; and it was at the Churchill’s
suggestion that I moved hither to end my days in
peace and solitude. But the soft mild western air
restored me to some share of health ; and with the
power to work, the occupation came.”

“You mean your writings, sir?”