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The artist did not immediately reply； being startled by the
apparition of a young child of strength that was tumbling about
on the carpet；a little personage who had come mysteriously out
of the infinite； but with something so sturdy and real in his
composition that he seemed moulded out of the densest substance
which earth could supply。 This hopeful infant crawled towards the
new…comer； and setting himself on end； as Robert Danforth
expressed the posture； stared at Owen with a look of such
sagacious observation that the mother could not help exchanging a
proud glance with her husband。 But the artist was disturbed by
the child's look； as imagining a resemblance between it and Peter
Hovenden's habitual expression。 He could have fancied that the
old watchmaker was compressed into this baby shape； and looking
out of those baby eyes； and repeating； as he now did； the
malicious question： 〃The beautiful； Owen！ How comes on the
beautiful？ Have you succeeded in creating the beautiful？〃
〃I have succeeded；〃 replied the artist； with a momentary light of
triumph in his eyes and a smile of sunshine； yet steeped in such
depth of thought that it was almost sadness。 〃Yes； my friends； it
is the truth。 I have succeeded。〃
〃Indeed！〃 cried Annie； a look of maiden mirthfulness peeping out
of her face again。 〃And is it lawful； now； to inquire what the
secret is？〃
〃Surely； it is to disclose it that I have come；〃 answered Owen
Warland。 〃You shall know； and see； and touch； and possess the
secret！ For； Annie；if by that name I may still address the
friend of my boyish years；Annie； it is for your bridal gift
that I have wrought this spiritualized mechanism； this harmony of
motion； this mystery of beauty。 It comes late； indeed； but it is
as we go onward in life； when objects begin to lose their
freshness of hue and our souls their delicacy of perception； that
the spirit of beauty is most needed。 If；forgive me； Annie；if
you know howto value this gift； it can never come too late。〃
He produced； as he spoke； what seemed a jewel box。 It was carved
richly out of ebony by his own hand； and inlaid with a fanciful
tracery of pearl； representing a boy in pursuit of a butterfly；
which； elsewhere； had become a winged spirit； and was flying
heavenward； while the boy； or youth； had found such efficacy in
his strong desire that he ascended from earth to cloud； and from
cloud to celestial atmosphere； to win the beautiful。 This case of
ebony the artist opened； and bade Annie place her fingers on its
edge。 She did so； but almost screamed as a butterfly fluttered
forth； and； alighting on her finger's tip； sat waving the ample
magnificence of its purple and gold…speckled wings； as if in
prelude to a flight。 It is impossible to express by words the
glory； the splendor； the delicate gorgeousness which were
softened into the beauty of this object。 Nature's ideal butterfly
was here realized in all its perfection； not in the pattern of
such faded insects as flit among earthly flowers； but of those
which hover across the meads of paradise for child…angels and the
spirits of departed infants to disport themselves with。 The rich
down was visible upon its wings； the lustre of its eyes seemed
instinct with spirit。 The firelight glimmered around this
wonderthe candles gleamed upon it； but it glistened apparently
by its own radiance； and illuminated the finger and outstretched
hand on which it rested with a white gleam like that of precious
stones。 In its perfect beauty； the consideration of size was
entirely lost。 Had its wings overreached the firmament； the mind
could not have been more filled or satisfied。
〃Beautiful！ beautiful！〃 exclaimed Annie。 〃Is it alive？ Is it
alive？〃
〃Alive？ To be sure it is；〃 answered her husband。 〃Do you suppose
any mortal has skill enough to make a butterfly； or would put
himself to the trouble of making one； when any child may catch a
score of them in a summer's afternoon？ Alive？ Certainly！ But this
pretty box is undoubtedly of our friend Owen's manufacture； and
really it does him credit。〃
At this moment the butterfly waved its wings anew； with a motion
so absolutely lifelike that Annie was startled； and even
awestricken； for； in spite of her husband's opinion； she could
not satisfy herself whether it was indeed a living creature or a
piece of wondrous mechanism。
〃Is it alive？〃 she repeated； more earnestly than before。
〃Judge for yourself；〃 said Owen Warland； who stood gazing in her
face with fixed attention。
The butterfly now flung itself upon the air； fluttered round
Annie's head； and soared into a distant region of the parlor；
still making itself perceptible to sight by the starry gleam in
which the motion of its wings enveloped it。 The infant on the
floor followed its course with his sagacious little eyes。 After
flying about the room； it returned in a spiral curve and settled
again on Annie's finger。
〃But is it alive？〃 exclaimed she again； and the finger on which
the gorgeous mystery had alighted was so tremulous that the
butterfly was forced to balance himself with his wings。 〃Tell me
if it be alive； or whether you created it。〃
〃Wherefore ask who created it； so it be beautiful？〃 replied Owen
Warland。 〃Alive？ Yes； Annie； it may well be said to possess
life； for it has absorbed my own being into itself； and in the
secret of that butterfly； and in its beauty；which is not merely
outward； but deep as its whole system；is represented the
intellect； the imagination； the sensibility； the soul of an
Artist of the Beautiful！ Yes； I created it。 But〃and here his
countenance somewhat changed〃this butterfly is not now to me
what it was when I beheld it afar off in the daydreams of my
youth。〃
〃Be it what it may； it is a pretty plaything；〃 said the
blacksmith； grinning with childlike delight。 〃I wonder whether it
would condescend to alight on such a great clumsy finger as mine？
Hold it hither； Annie。〃
By the artist's direction； Annie touched her finger's tip to that
of her husband； and； after a momentary delay； the butterfly
fluttered from one to the other。 It preluded a second flight by a
similar； yet not precisely the same； waving of wings as in the
first experiment； then； ascending from the blacksmith's stalwart
finger； it rose in a gradually enlarging curve to the ceiling；
made one wide sweep around the room； and returned with an
undulating movement to the point whence it had started。
〃Well； that does beat all nature！〃 cried Robert Danforth；
bestowing the heartiest praise that he could find expression for；
and； indeed； had he paused there； a man of finer words and nicer
perception could not easily have said more。 〃That goes beyond me；
I confess。 But what then？ There is more real use in one downright
blow of my sledge hammer than in the whole five years' labor that
our friend Owen has wasted on this butterfly。〃
Here the child clapped his hands and made a great ba