"Yes，yes; I know all that. But what of the resemblance? Who is it like?"

Mastering some hesitation，he answered，"Miss Oliver，I presume."

"Of course. And now，sir，to reward you for the accurate guess，I will promise to paint you a careful and faithful duplicate of this very picture，provided you admit that the gift would be acceptable to you. I don"t wish to throw away my time and trouble on an offering you would deem worthless."

He continued to gaze at the picture: the longer he looked，the firmer he held it，the more he seemed to covet it. "It is like!" he murmured; "the eye is well managed: the colour，light，expression，are perfect. It smiles!"

"Would it fort，or would it wound you to have a similar painting? Tell me that. When you are at Madagascar，or at the Cape，or in India，would it be a consolation to have that memento in your possession? or would the sight of it bring recollections calculated to enervate and distress?"

He now furtively raised his eyes: he glanced at me，irresolute，disturbed: he again surveyed the picture.

"That I should like to have it is certain: whether it would be judicious or wise is another question."

Since I had ascertained that Rosamond really preferred him，and that her father was not likely to oppose the match，I- less exalted in my views than St. John- had been strongly disposed in my own heart to advocate their union. It seemed to me that，should he bee the possessor of Mr. Oliver"s large fortune，he might do as much good with it as if he went and laid his genius out to wither，and his strength to waste，under a tropical sun. With this persuasion I now answered-

"As far as I can see，it would be wiser and more judicious if you were to take to yourself the original at once."