LADY VILLIERS.

The subject of the accompanying plate, is the eldest daughter of the Premier of Great Britain, Sir Robert Peel, Bart., who, having been united in 1820 to Julia, youngest daughter of General Sir John Floyd, has been blessed with a numerous family.

Lady Villiers, whose mother justly ranks as one of the handsomest women in England, has all the outward characteristics of the British aristocracy-beauty of a noble, and at the same time captivating kind. Such ladies surrounded by the highest rank, seldom remain long unmarried, and only a few months since, Miss Peel became Lady Villiers; having honoured the heir of the Jersey family with her hand.

The few particulars actually existing regarding the subject of this notice, we have been unable to obtain; and, indeed, it is a great

question whether the sanctity of private life ought to be invaded to gratify public curiosity.

THE NEW

MONTHLY BELLE ASSEMBLÉE.

NOVEMBER, 1841.

ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS,

CONSISTING OF TALES, ROMANCES, AN ECDOTES,
AND POETRY.

THE ARTIST'S WIFE.

BY LEIGH CLIFIE, ESQ.

sion,

taught art to inimic the graces of nature. With all the enthusiasm of one devoted to his profesHolbein Harstein minutely examined the placid yet expressive features he had depicted upon the canvass. It was beauty in repose-loveliness unruffled by the storms of jealousy, or withered by the blight of care! Woman as she looked when Eden was her own, when happiness was unshrouded by even a distant cloud of sorrow.

Holbein Harstein was by birth a German; his whole worldly wealth was invested in the talents with which he had been gifted by nature; he was unpatronized, and therefore almost unknown; and

"There is little merit where there is no self-denial to add to the list of his misfortunes, he was mar

to endure."'

ried to one above his own rank in life, who, in the delirium of love, gave up friends and home for him, and reduced him to the straitened circumstances in which he was at present placed, and from which there appeared little chance of emancipation.

It was on a fiue suuny morning in May, and so early, that Fashion's night had scarcely ended, when Holbein Harstein entered his studio, to commence the avocations of the day. The studio was on a small scale; not a "chair-lumbered closet," young artist had too much time for study and Portraits not being every-day requisites, the like that described by Goldsmith, though certainly reflection; but study brought no profit, and reit was not of greater dimensions. The only fur-flection very little comfort; for, although some peoniture it contained was a camp-stool that stood before an easel, on which was placed an unfinished portrait of a very lovely female, apparently about thirty years of age, and a throne, raised on a dais, covered with crimson cloth, and finished at the back with a draperied curtain of flowered damask of a correspondent hue. His pallet and colours were arranged with a neatness that bespoke a strict attention to method, while the uncarpeted floor rather more than hinted at an approach to poverty;-the guome that ever hovers around the abode of talent.

ple talk sentimentally of the pleasures derived from thinking of the past, it is questionable if they do not generally find their reminiscences a little shadowy, for life is at no period always sunny. Holbein was married; his wife was young, pretty, and thoughtless; loving and loveable, but dissatisfied with the bare means of existence that her husband possessed. She was one of those who thought a husband, like a pocket-handkerchief, ought always to be in her hand. Reared in the lap of luxury, she was ignorant of the routine of domestic life, and lamented the loss of those atThe artist was a tall, elegantly-formed young tentions, which, as the only child of a wealthy man. Five and twenty years were scarcely marked banker, she had ever been accustomed to receive. upon his fine open brow, but there were deep Early indulgence had brought on a waywardness traces of care upon his countenance that ought not yet to have been there; but the world had frowned her pettishness, and then weep that she had done of disposition, and she would anger Holbein in upon him, for he was a criminal in the severest so; repine at their state of poverty, and then acsense of the word in the vocabulary of the cuse herself of ingratitude to her husband; blame worldling he was poor! The pale cheek and him for the most trifling faults, and then implore melancholy look, which betokened mental dis-him to "kiss and be friends." Such was the quietude, gradually gave way to an expression of situation of the young artist at the commencement satisfaction, as he gazed upon the unfinished por- of this tale. trait that rested on the easel. He felt that he had been successful in depicting the indescribable charms that gave a brilliancy to the beauty of the original, and, by a happy touch of the pencil, had

portrait before him; touching, and retouching He had been working for some time upon the with the nicest care the fair features which he had now softened down to the appearance of that calm

S

quietude of beauty which bears hard upon the angelic, when the door was opened by his wife, who entered with an open note in her hand, which she placed with some little trepidation in the hands of Holbein. It was an invitation from Lady Mapleston, an old friend, and distant relative of her family, to meet a large circle at her mansion on the following evening. Harstein was not included in the invite; but as it was evident that Lady Mapleston considered her too young to appear in public without a chaperon, she added in a postcript that her friend Mrs. Gregory would call in her carriage to take her up at a specified hour. The colour deepened upon the cheeks of Harstein as he came to the conclusion of the billet, in which even his existence was not hinted at. It was, however, but a momentary sensation; he was too high-minded to care for the littlenesses that persons in society can be guilty of, and as he returned the note into the hands of his wife, he | said, "You will, of course, go to Lady Mapleston's, my dear Adelaide!"

"I certainly should like to go, for there are few, so very few persons who know me now," replied Adelaide; but yet I dread being seen

in the world: for an artist's wife has no claim to any thing more than the constrained civilities which even the most proud and fastidious cannot decently refuse to bestow upon her en passant."

"Adelaide!" said her husband, "is this generous! Is it kind of you to mock with such heartless taunts the poverty of your husband?”

With as quick a sense of the injustice she had been guilty of, as the pettishness of her disposition had caused her to give utterance to her momen. tary feelings of passion, Adelaide now felt humbled to the dust; and throwing her arms around her husband's neck, she sunk her head upon his shoulder, a weeping and repentant offender.

"Look up, Adelaide,” said Harstein, who was fond of his wife, even to a feeling of idolatry; and he kissed her cheek with all the warmth of pure affection" Look up, my wife, and tell me what I can do to gratify your wishes."

Nothing, dear Holbein, nothing, but forgive me. I thought, perhaps, I might chance to meet my father at Lady Mapleston's; and I felt that if I did, my appearance might degrade me in his eyes, and make him firmer in his determination never to pardon me. My wardrobe is empty now of those habiliments that used to make me the envy of those around me, and my father denied me the possession of my jewels."

"Dress yourself simply, love: a pure white rose, placed lightly in your hair, I should prefer to jewels. It would become you better."

"Yes, as an artist's wife," replied Adelaide, who was just at the moment suffering under another fit of wounded pride.

Harstein felt his cheeks glow, and his heart beat quick. For a little time the force of passion almost overcame his resolution to bear with the wayward nature of his wife: but he did conquer his feelings, and without saying one word in reply, took his station at the easel, and with a trembling hand put a few more touches to the picture. Adelaide now began to fear that she had angered him deeply; he had never treated her upbraidings with

such silent scorn, and although she wished to own that she had been greatly in fault, she had not courage to make the attempt. At this juncture one of his pencils fell from the hand of Harstein. Adelaide was ready to bless the accident, for it afforded her an opportunity of proving to her husband that she could be attentive to his wants. Harstein looked at her kindly, and expressed his thanks. As Harstein was now employed in finishing the drapery of the portrait, it became necessary for him to change the position of the layfigure, as he required the light to fall more brightly on one portion of the velvet robe with which the figure was attired.

"Let me arrange it for you, Holbein," said Adelaide, as she placed the velvet in those light graceful folds that artists love to pourtray. "When will this portrait be finished, dear Holbein ?"

The young artist turned to her kindly, and replied, “In two days, love; and I would to heaven that it were finished now, for your sake." "For my sake, Holbein !"

have

"Yes, for your sake, Adelaide; I would then simplicity at Lady Mapleston's." shine forth in all the pride of elegant

you

"Ah! that cannot be!" exclaimed Adelaide, in a tone of mortified vanity; "I must look as poor as I really am !"

Holbein Harstein sighed deeply, but he gave no reply. Adelaide appeared to be absorbed in thought; she came up to her husband after a few moments of consideration, and, evidently much agitated, endeavoured to extort from him a promise not to deny her the request she was about to make. He hesitated, but she pleaded so strongly, and looked so lovely, as her bright eyes shed their glances on his own, that he was at length compelled to acquiesce.

It was evident that the artist's wife scarcely knew in what way to preface her request, but, after some hesitation, she begged that he would allow her to wear the velvet robe and jewels at Lady Mapleston's party. Harstein stood aghast: he remonstrated with her on the impropriety having entertained such an idea, and was answered by the tears and sobs of his disappointed wife, who was deaf to all his reasoning, and considered his conduct cruel.

When a woman is resolute in her endeavours to obtain her own will, it is seldom that she decidedly fails in the attempt. Men are yielding creatures when women weep, though they are stern when they find any attempt is made at coercion. Harstein, when he found that all arguments were vain, promised to take her request into serious consideration; he assured her that by yielding to her wishes, the consequences might be ruinous to himself; the lady might, in all probability, be one of Lady Mapleston's invited guests, but, as she was to visit the artist's studio for the last sitting that morning, he promised to endeavour to discover whether there was any probability of a meeting between them taking place. Adelaide was not only satisfied, but in a delirium of delight; and the poor bewildered artist was relieved of that bitterest of all troubles-a wife's com plainings.

Holbein Harstein felt that he had placed him

self not only in a delicate, but also in a respon- | to think that with the morrow she must return to sible situation. The jewels, which had been entrusted to his care with the dress, were of the most valuable description, and if by any unfortunate chance, they should happen to be in the slightest degree damaged, or lost, he must of necessity be placed in the foreground, and bear the brand of infamy. He shuddered at the idea; for his notions of honour were not of that subservient description as those in which, it is to be lamented, some persons indulge.

The time of trial came, and Harstein, while his words trembled on his tongue, ventured to make the enquiry of his fair sitter whether she intended to grace the reunion of Lady Mapleston with her presence.

"I am engaged to go with some friends to witness the performance of Lucretia Borgia, and most likely shall not have time to look in at her Ladyship's; at least, if I do, it will not be for more than five minutes," replied the fair widow, who was anxious for the completion of the portrait, which was intended to become a bridal gift to her second spouse.

Thus far all things seemed to progress favourably, and when the lady took her leave, Harstein was cheered by her perfect approbation of the portrait, and the power which her answer had afforded him of ministering to the wishes of his wife. But still he felt a degree of self-dissatisfaction at acting with duplicity. He lamented that his wife had not that nobleness of mind which enables women to accommodate themselves to their circumBut Adelaide had a hold upon his heart that could not be shaken; and to see the smile of happiness beam upon her brow, he would have sacrificed everything, except his honour.