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diff --git a/40673-8.txt b/40673-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 87d9a3d..0000000 --- a/40673-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7984 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tiger Lily, by George Manville Fenn - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Tiger Lily - -Author: George Manville Fenn - -Release Date: September 5, 2012 [EBook #40673] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIGER LILY *** - - - - -Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England - - - - -Tiger Lily, by George Manville Fenn. - -________________________________________________________________________ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -________________________________________________________________________ -TIGER LILY, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. - -CHAPTER ONE. - -MODERN SKILL. - -"Hallo, Sawbones!" - -The speaker raised his head from the white pillow of the massive, -old-fashioned four-post bed, and set the ornamental bobs and tags of the -heavy bullion fringe upon the great cornice quivering. He was a -sharp-faced, cleanly shaven man, freshly scraped, and the barber who had -been operating was in the act of replacing his razor and strop as these -words were spoken to the calm, thoughtful-looking person who entered the -substantially furnished room. - -"Good morning, Mr. Masters. Had a quiet night?" - -"Bah! You know I haven't. How is a man to have a good night when ten -thousand imps are boring into him with red-hot iron, and jigging his -nerves till he is half mad! Here, you: be off!" - -"Without brushing your hair, sir?" - -"Brush a birch broom! My head never wants brushing. You know that." - -He gave himself a jerk, and the short, crisp, wavy grey locks glistened -in the bright morning sun, which streamed in through the window. - -"Look here; you can cut it to-morrow when you come--if I'm not dead. If -I am, you may have a bit to keep in remembrance." - -"Oh, not so bad as that, sir, I hope. Dr. Thorpe is too--" - -"That'll do," said the man in the bed sharply. "I kept to you because -you didn't chatter like the ordinary barber brood. I may get better, so -don't spoil your character. Be off!" - -The barber smiled, bowed, and left the room to doctor and patient. - -"Well?" said the latter, meeting his attendant's searching eye. "I'm -not gone." - -"No; and I do not mean to let you go if I can help it." - -"Ho!--But perhaps you can't." - -"God knows, sir; but I shall do my best. I would rather, though, that -you would let me bring in some one in consultation." - -"And I wouldn't. If you can't set me right, Thorpe, no one in Boston -can. Look here; brought your tools?" - -The young doctor smiled. - -"Ah, it's nothing to grin about." - -"No; it is serious enough, my dear sir." - -"Then answer my question. Brought your tools?" - -"I have come quite prepared." - -"Then I shan't have it done." - -Michael Thorpe looked at his patient as if he did not believe him, and -the latter continued-- - -"I say: it's confoundedly hard that I should suffer like this. Spent -all my life slaving, and now at sixty, when I want a little peace and -enjoyment, this cursed trouble comes on. Look here, Thorpe; don't fool -about with me. Charge me what you like, but tell me; couldn't you give -me some stuff that would cure it without this operation?" - -"Do you want me to be perfectly plain with you, sir, once more?" - -"Of course. Do I look the sort of man to be humbugged?" - -"Then I must tell you, sir, the simple truth. You may go on for months, -perhaps a year, as you are. That is the outside." - -"I wouldn't go on for a week as I have been, my lad.--But if I have it -done?" - -"There is no reason why you should not live to be eighty, or a hundred, -if you can." - -"Right; I'll go in for the hundred, Thorpe. I'm tough enough. There, -get it over." - -"You will have it done?" - -"Of course I will. Don't kill me, or I'll come back and haunt you." - -"I should be too glad to see a dear old friend again, so that wouldn't -alarm me," said Thorpe, examining his patient, who smiled grimly. "I -shall not kill you. All I'm afraid of is that I may perform the -operation so unskilfully that my labour and your suffering will have -been in vain." - -"And then I'll call you a miserable pretender, and shan't pay you a -cent. Bah! You can do it. I know you, Michael Thorpe, and haven't -watched you for nothing." - -The young surgeon held out his hands to his patient. - -"Give me your full confidence, Mr. Masters," he said, "work with me, and -I can cure you." - -"Right, my lad. But you had it before," he cried, grasping the hands -extended to him. "I trust you, boy, as I always did your father--God -bless him! Now, no more talking. Get to work. I won't holloa. Where -are you going?" - -"Only down to the drawing-room to fetch the nurse." - -"Ring for her--she's downstairs." - -"I mean the other--the professional nurse whom I brought with me." - -"What for?" - -"To help me now, and to attend you for a few days afterwards exactly as -I wish." - -"Two nurses? One has nearly killed me. Two will be downright murder." - -"No, sir," said Michael Thorpe, smiling. "The good in one will -neutralise all the ill that there may be in the other." - -"Fetch her up, then; and look here, Thorpe; I'm a man, not a weak -hysterical girl. None of your confounded chloroform, or anything of -that kind." - -"You leave yourself in my hands, please," said the surgeon, smiling, and -going across to the door, which he left open, and then uttering a sharp -cough, returned. - -A minute later there was a faint rustling sound beyond the heavy -curtains, and the patient, frowning heavily, turned his head in the -direction of the door. Then the scowl upon his sharp face gave place to -a look of wonder and delight as a rather slight, dark-haired girl, in a -closely fitting black dress and white-bibbed apron, advanced towards -him, with her large dark eyes beaming sympathy, and a smile, half -pitying, half affectionate, played about her well-formed, expressive -lips. - -"Cornel!" he cried. "Why, my dear little girl, this is good of you to -come and see me. I thought it was the nurse." - -He stretched out his hands, drew the girl to him, and kissed her -tenderly on both cheeks, and then on the lips, before sinking back with -the tears in his eyes--two utter strangers, which, possibly finding -their position novel, hurriedly quitted their temporary resting-place, -fell over the sides, and trickled down his cheeks. - -"I am the nurse," came now, in a sweet, silvery voice, as the new-comer -began to arrange the pillow in that peculiarly refreshing way only given -by loving hands. - -"You? Impossible!" - -"Oh no, Mr. Masters. Michael told me everything, and I was going to -offer, when he asked me if I would come and help him." - -"Oh, but nonsense! You, my child! It would be too horrible and -disgusting for a young girl like you." - -"Why?" she replied gently. "Michael trusts me, and thinks I carry out -his wishes better than a paid servant would." - -"That's it, my dear sir. I want, both for the sake of an old friend and -for my reputation, to make my operation perfectly successful. Cornel -here will carry out my instructions to the letter. She will help me too -in the operation." - -"But an operation is not fit--not the place for a young girl." - -"Why not?" said Cornel, smiling. - -"It is unsexing you, my child." - -"Unsexing me, when I come to help to calm your pain, to nurse you back -to health and strength! A woman never unsexes herself in proving a help -to those who suffer. Besides, I have often helped my brother before." - -Meanwhile the surgeon had busied himself at a table upon which he had -placed a mahogany case. He had had his back to them, but now turned and -advanced to the bed, with a little silver implement in his hand. - -"Now, my dear sir, a little manly fortitude and patience, and you may -believe me when I tell you that there is nothing to fear." - -"Who is afraid?" said the old man sharply. "But what's that?" - -"A little apparatus for injecting an anaesthetic." - -"I said I wouldn't have anything of the kind," cried the patient -angrily. "I can and will bear it." - -"But I cannot and will not," said the surgeon, smiling. "You could not -help wincing and showing your suffering. That would trouble, perhaps -unnerve me, and I could not work so well." - -"What are you going to do?--give me chloroform?" - -"No; I am going to inject a fluid that will dull the sensitive nerves of -the part, and place you in such a condition that you will lose all sense -of suffering." - -"And if I don't come to?" - -"You will not for some time. Now, old friend, show me your confidence. -Are you ready?" - -There was a long, deep-drawn breath, a look at the young girl's patient, -trust-giving face and then Ezekiel Masters, one of the wealthiest men in -Boston, said calmly-- - -"Yes." - -A few minutes later he was lying perfectly insensible, and breathing as -gently as an infant. "Can you repeat that from time to time, as I tell -you?" said the surgeon. - -"Yes, dear." - -"Without flinching?" - -"Yes. It is to save him. I shall not shrink." - -"Then I depend upon you." - -Busy minutes followed, with the patient lying perfectly unconscious. - -"How long could he be kept like this, Michael?" whispered Cornel, whose -face looked very white. - -"As long as you wished--comparatively. Don't talk; you hinder me." - -"As long as I liked," thought Cornel, with her eyes dilating as she -gazed at the patient, with the little syringe in her hand, and the -stoppered bottle, from which the fluid was taken, close by--"as long as -I liked, and he as if quite dead. What an awful power to hold within -one's grasp!" - -CHAPTER TWO. - -THE CERTAIN PERSON. - -"Hah!" - -A long-drawn sigh of content, which made Cornelia Thorpe emerge from her -chair behind the bed-curtains, and bend over to lay her soft white hand -upon the patient's forehead, but only for it to be taken and held to his -lips. - -"Well, angel?" he said quietly. - -"Your head is quite cool; there is no fever. Have you had a good -night's rest?" - -"Good, my child? It has been heavenly. I seemed to sink at once into a -delicious dreamless sleep, such as I have not known for a year, and I -feel as if I had not stirred all night." - -"You have not." - -"Then you have watched by me?" - -"Oh, yes." - -"Hah!" There was a pause. Then: "You must have given me a strong -dose?" - -"No," said Cornel, smiling. "Your sleep was quite natural. Why should -it not be? Michael says the cause of all your suffering is completely -removed, and that he has been successful beyond his hopes." - -The old man lay holding his nurse's hand, and gazing at her fair, -innocent face intently for some minutes before breaking the silence -again. - -"When was it?" he said at last. - -"A week to-day, and in another month you may be up again." - -"Hah! And they say there are no miracles now, and no angels upon -earth," said the patient, half to himself. Then more loudly, "Cornel, -my child, I think I must turn over a new leaf." - -"Don't," she said, smiling. "I like the old page. You have always been -my fathers dear friend--always good and kind." - -"I? Bah! A regular money-scraping, harsh tyrant. A regular miser." - -"Nonsense, Mr. Masters." - -"Then I'll prove it. I won't pay Michael his fees, nor you your wages -for nursing me--not till I'm dead. Well, have I said something funny? -Why do you laugh?" - -"I smiled because I felt pleased." - -"Because I'm better?" - -"Yes; and because you are not going to insult Michael, nor your nurse, -by offering us--" - -"Dollars? Humph! There, let's talk about something else. Does Michael -still hold to that insane notion of going to Europe?" - -"Oh yes; we should have been there now, if it had not been for your -illness." - -"Then he gave it up for a time, because I wanted him to attend me?" - -Cornel bowed her head. - -"Humph! Sort of madness to want to go at all. Isn't America big enough -for him?" - -"Of course," said Cornel, laughing gently; and now the air of the nurse -appeared to have dropped away, to give place to the bright happy look of -a girl of twenty. "Surely it is not madness to want to increase his -knowledge by a little study at the English and French hospitals. -Besides, it was our father's wish." - -"Yes; Jack was very mad about the English doctors, when there was not -one who could touch him. I say, though: Michael is going to be as -clever." - -"I hope so," said Cornel, with animation. "He studies very hard." - -"Yes, he's a clever one, girl; and Jack Thorpe would have been very -proud of him if he had lived. But, I say--" - -Cornel looked inquiringly in the keen eyes which searched her face. - -"You really want to go with your brother?" - -"Yes," she said with animation--"I should very much like to go." - -"To study with him in the English and French hospitals?" - -"I should like him to take me round with him," she said, with her cheeks -growing slightly tinged. "I am always interested in his cases, and -surely a woman is none the worse for a little surgical and medical -knowledge." - -"A precious deal better, my dear. But, I say--" - -"Yes, dear guardian," she said, with a sweet, thrilling modulation now -in her tones, as her eyes grew dim, and she laid both her little hands -in the patient's. - -"I promised your father I'd always have an eye on you two, and I don't -think I ought to let you think of going, Cornel dear." - -She was silent. - -"Isn't it a sort of madness for you--to--eh? You know." - -"To love and keep my faith to Armstrong Dale?" she said gently; and the -love-light shone brightly in the eyes which met the old man's now -without shrinking. - -"Yes; that's what I meant, little one. I don't know how you could get -yourself engaged to him." - -Cornel laughed gently--a pleasant, silvery little laugh, which seemed to -do the patient good, for he smiled and listened to the last note of the -musical sounds. But he grew serious, and there was a cynicism in his -tones as he went on. - -"I don't believe in him, my girl. He's good-looking and a bit clever; -but when you have said that, you have said all." - -A little white finger was laid upon the speaker's lips, but he went on. - -"I know: he gammoned you with his love nonsense, but if he had been the -fellow I took him for, he'd have stayed here in Boston and painted and -glazed. Painted you. Painted me--glazed me too, if he had liked. What -did he want to go and study at Rome and Paris and London for? We've -cleverer people in the States than out there." - -"To get breadth, and learn his own failings," said Cornel gently. - -"Hadn't any--I mean he was full of 'em, of course. Couldn't have loved -you, or he'd have stopped at home." - -"It was to show his love for me, and to try and make himself a master of -his art, that he went away," said Cornel, with a look of faith and pride -in her eyes. - -"Bah! He has forgotten you by this time. Give him up, puss. He'll -never come back. He'll marry some fine madam in the old country." - -Cornel winced, and her eyes dilated as these words stung her; but the -pang was momentary, and she laughed in the full tide of her happy trust -in the man she loved. - -"You mark my words, Cornel," said the old man; "that fellow will throw -you over, and then that will set your monkey up, and you'll come and ask -me to marry you, and I will. The folks 'll all laugh, but let 'em. We -shall be all right, little one. I shall have a sweet little nurse and -housekeeper to take care of me to the end, and you'll have an ugly, -cantankerous old husband, who won't live very long, and will die and -leave you a million dollars, so that you can laugh at the whole world, -and be the prettiest little widow in Boston--bah! in the whole States-- -and with too much good sense to throw yourself away.--Who's that?" - -"Doctor," said Michael Thorpe, entering. "How is he, Cornel?" - -"Getting better fast; so well this morning that he is saying all kinds -of harsh and cruel things." - -"Capital sign," said the young surgeon.--"Yes, capital. Why, you are -splendid, Mr. Masters, and at the end of only a week." - -"Oh, I'm better. Only said you were mad to want to go to Europe; and -that she's worse to pin her faith to a gad-about artist who'll only -break her heart." - -Michael Thorpe's stern, thoughtful face expanded into a pleasant smile. - -"Yes, Cornel dear," he said; "there's no doubt about it; he's mending -fast. I'll book my cabin in one of the Allan boats for about the -beginning of next month. You will not be able to go." - -CHAPTER THREE. - -A FAIR CLIENT. - -A noble-looking specimen of humanity, with a grand grizzly head, and -strongly marked aquiline features, lit up by deeply set, piercing eyes, -got out of a four-wheeler at Number 409 Portland Place, knocking off a -very shabby hat in the process. - -"Mind the nap, guv'nor," said the battered-looking driver with a laugh, -as his fare stooped to pick up the fallen edifice; and as he spoke, the -man's look took in the ill-fitting coat and patched boots of him whom he -had driven only from Fitzroy Square. - -"Not the first time that's been down, cabby. Hand 'em off." - -A minute later, Daniel Jaggs, familiarly known in art circles as "The -Emperor," and by visitors to the Royal Academy from his noble face, -which had appeared over the bodies of noble Romans and heroes of great -variety, stood on the pavement with an easel under one arm, a large -blank canvas under the other, and a flat japanned box of oil colours and -case of brushes held half hidden by beard, beneath his chin. - -He walked up to the door of the great mansion, whose window-sills and -portico were gay with fresh flowers, and gave a vigorous tug at the -bell. - -The double doors flew open almost directly, and "The Emperor" was faced -by a portly butler, who was flanked by a couple of men in livery. - -"Oh! the painters traps," said the former. "Look here, my good fellow; -you should have rung the other bell. Step inside." - -"The Emperor" obeyed, and, leaving the visitor waiting in the handsome -hall, in company with the footman and under-butler, who looked rather -superciliously at the well-worn garments of the artist's model, the -out-of-livery servant walked slowly up the broad staircase to the -drawing-room, and as slowly returned, to stand beckoning. - -"You are to bring them up yourself," he said haughtily. - -Daniel Jaggs placed his hat upon one of the crest-blazoned hall chairs, -loaded himself well with the artistic impedimenta, and then went forward -to the foot of the stairs up which the butler was leading the way, when, -hearing a sound, he turned sharply. - -"Here! Hi!" he cried loudly; "what are you going to do with that 'at?" - -For one of the footmen was putting it out of sight, disgusted with the -appearance of the dirty lining. - -"Hush! Recollect where you are," whispered the butler. "Her ladyship -will hear." - -"But that's my best 'at," grumbled the model, and then he subsided into -silence as he was ushered into a magnificently furnished room; the door -was closed behind him, and he stood staring round, thinking of -backgrounds, when there was the rustling of silk, and "The Emperor" was -dazzled, staring, as he told himself, at the most beautiful woman he had -ever seen in his life. - -Valentina, Contessa Dellatoria, was worthy of the man's admiration as -she stood there with her dark eyes half veiled by their long lashes, in -all the proud matured beauty of a woman of thirty, who could command -every resource of jewel and robe to heighten the charms with which -nature had liberally endowed her. She was beautiful; she knew it; and -at those moments, eager with anticipations which had heightened the -colour in her creamy cheeks, and the lustre in her eyes, she stood ready -to be amused as she thoroughly grasped the meaning of the man's -astonished gaze. - -"You have brought those from Mr. Dale, have you not?" she said at last, -in a rich, soft voice. - -"Yes, my lady. I 'ave, my lady. The heasel and canvas, my lady." - -"Perhaps you had better bring them into this room." - -"Yes, my lady--of course, my lady," said the model eagerly, as he -blundered after the Contessa, "The Emperor's" rather shambling -movements, being due to a general looseness of joint, in no wise -according with the majesty of his head and face. - -"Yes; about there. That will do; they are sure to be moved." - -"Oh yes, my lady, on account of the light. Mr. Dale's very partickler." - -"Indeed? Will he be here soon?" - -"Direc'ly, I should say, my lady. He bordered me to bring on his -traps." - -"From his studio?" said the lady, sinking into a chair, and taking a -purse from a little basket on a table. - -"The Emperor's" eyesight was very good, and the movement suggested -pleasant things. The lady, too, seemed disposed to question him, and he -winked to himself mentally, as he glanced at the beautiful face before -him, thought of his employer's youth and good looks, and then had sundry -other thoughts, such as might occur to a man of a very ordinary world. - -But his hands were not idle; they were as busy as his thoughts, and he -spread the legs of the easel, and altered the position of the pegs ready -for the canvas. - -"Will you take this--for your trouble?" came in that soft, rich, -thrilling voice. - -"Oh no--thank you, my lady--that ain't necessary," said the man hastily, -as his fingers closed over the coin extended with a smile by fingers -glittering with jewels.--"A suv, by jingo," he added to himself. - -"Are you Mr. Dale's servant?" - -"No, ma'am--my lady. Oh, dear, no. An old friend--that is, you know, I -sit for him--and stand. I'm in a many of his pictures." - -"Oh, I see. He takes your portrait?" - -"Well, no, my lady; portraits is quite another line. I meant for his -gennery pictures." - -"_Genre_?" - -"Yes, my lady. I was standing for Crackticus that day when you and his -lordship come to the studio." - -"Indeed? I did not see you." - -"No, my lady. I had to go into the next room. You see I was a hancient -Briton, and not sootable for or'nary society 'cept in a picture.--I -think that'll do, my lady. He'll alter it to his taste." - -"Yes, but--er--does Mr. Dale paint many portraits of ladies?" said the -Contessa, detaining the model as he made as if to depart. - -"Oh no, my lady. I never knew him do such a thing afore. He never -works away from his studio, and he went on a deal about having to come -here--er--that is--of course, he did not know," added the man hastily. - -The Contessa smiled. - -"But he has painted the human countenance a great deal? I mean the -faces of ladies. There were several of nymphs in his Academy picture -this year--beautiful women." - -"The Emperor" smiled and shook his head. - -"On'y or'nary models, my lady. He made 'em look beautiful. That's art, -my lady." - -"Then he had sitters for that picture?" she asked, rather eagerly. - -"Oh yes, my lady; but Lor' bless you! it isn't much you'd think of them. -He's a doing a picture now--a tayblow about Juno making a discovery -over something. Her good man wasn't quite what he ought to have been, -my lady, and she's in a reg'lar rage." - -"Indeed?" - -"Yes, my lady; and he tried all the reg'lar lady models--spent no end on -'em, but they none of 'em wouldn't do." - -"Not beautiful enough?" - -"He didn't think so, my lady, though, as I told him, it was too much to -expeck to get one as was perfeck. You see in art, to make our best -studies, we has to do a deal of patching." - -"Painting the picture over and over again?" - -"Your ladyship does not understand. It's like this: many of our best -tayblows of goddesses and nymphs is made up. One model does for the -face, another for the arms and hands, another for busties and--I beg -your ladyship's pardon; I was only talking art." - -"I understand. I take a great deal of interest in the subject." - -"Thankye, my lady. I told Mr. Dale as it was expecting too much to get -a perfeck woman for a model, for there wasn't such a thing in nature. -But, all hignorance, my lady, all hignorance. I hadn't seen your -ladyship then. I beg your ladyship's pardon for being so bold." - -"The Emperor" had seen the dreamy dark eyes open wide and flash angrily, -but the look changed back to the listless, half-contemptuous again, and -the lady said with a smile-- - -"Granted.--That will do. I suppose you will fetch Mr. Dale's easel when -it is removed?" - -"I hope so, my lady, and thank you kindly. So generous! Never forget -it, and--oh! I beg your pardon, sir." - -"The Emperor" had been backing toward the door, and nearly came in -contact with a short, slight, carefully dressed, middle-aged man--that -is to say, he was about forty-five, looked sixty-five the last thing at -night, and as near thirty-five as his valet could make him in the day. - -He gazed keenly at the noble features of the man who towered over him, -and "The Emperor" returned the gaze, noting, from a professional point -of view, the rather classic Italian mould of the features, disfigured by -a rather weak sensual mouth, and dark eyes too closely set. - -"Two sizes larger, and what a Yago he would have made to my Brabantio," -muttered "The Emperor," as he was let out by one of the footmen; and at -the same moment Armstrong Dale, artist, strode up--a manly, handsome, -carelessly dressed, typical Saxon Englishman in appearance, generations -of his family, settled in America since the Puritan days, having -undergone no change. - -"Traps all there, Jaggs?" - -"Yes, sir, everything," said the man confidentially, "and oh! sir--" - -"That will do. Say what you have to say when I return: I'm late. Take -my card up to the Contessa," he continued, turning sharply to the -servant; and there was so much stern decision in his manner that the -door was held wide, and the artist entered. - -Meanwhile a few words passed in the drawing-room. - -"Who's that fellow, Tina?" said the man too small, in "The Emperor's" -estimation, for Iago. - -The Contessa had sunk back in her lounge, and a listless, weary air had -come over her face like a cloud, as she said, with a slight shrug of her -shoulders-- - -"Mr. Dale's man." - -"Who the dickens is Mr. Dale?" - -Twenty years of life in London society had so thoroughly Anglicised -Conte Cesare Dellatoria, that his conversation had become perfectly -insular, and the Italian accent was only noticeable at times. - -"You know--the artist whom we visited." - -"Oh, him! I'd forgotten. That his litter?" - -"Yes." - -"Humph! I haven't much faith in English artists. Better have waited -till we went to Rome in the winter. Why, Tina, you look lovely this -morning. That dress suits you exactly, beloved one." - -He bent down and kissed the softly rounded cheek, with the effect that -the lady's dark brows rose slightly, but enough to make a couple of -creases across her forehead. Then, as a dull, cracking noise, as of the -giving of some form of stay or stiffening was heard, the gentleman rose -upright quickly, and glanced at himself in one of the many mirrors. - -"Well, make him do you justice. But no--he cannot." - -"You are amiable this morning," said the lady contemptuously. - -"Always most amiable in your presence, my queen," he replied. - -"Oh, I see! You are going out?" - -"Yes, dearest. By the way, don't wait lunch, and I shall not be back to -dinner." - -"Do you dine with Lady Grayson?" - -The Conte laughed. - -"Delightful!" he cried. "Jealousy. And of her dearest, most -confidential friend." - -"No," said the lady quietly. "I have only one confidential friend." - -"Meaning me. Thank you, dearest." - -"Meaning myself," said the lady to herself. Then haughtily: "Yes?" - -This to one of the servants who brought in a card on a waiter. - -"Caller?" exclaimed the Conte. "Here, stop a moment; I've an -engagement;" and he hurried out through the back drawing-room, while the -lady's eyes closed a little more as she took the card from the silver -waiter, and sat up, listening intently, as she said in a low voice-- - -"Where is Mr. Dale?" - -"In the library, my lady." - -There was a pause, during which the Contessa turned her head toward the -back room, and let her eyes pass over the preparations that had been -made for her sitting. - -"Move that easel a little forward," she said. - -The man crossed to the back room and altered the position of the tripod -and canvas. - -"A little more toward the middle of the room." - -At that moment there was the faintly heard sound of a whistle, followed -by the rattle of wheels, which stopped in front of the house. A few -moments later the rattle of the wheels began again, and there was the -faint, dull, heavy sound of the closing front door. - -"I think that will do," said the Contessa carelessly. "Show Mr. Dale -up." - -The man left the room, and the change was instantaneous. His mistress -sprang up eager and animated, stepped to one of the mirrors, gave a -quick glance at her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, laid her hand for -a moment upon her heaving bosom, and then hurriedly resumed her seat, -with her head averted from the door. She took up a book, with which she -half screened her face, the hand which held open the leaves trembling -slightly from the agitation imparted by her quickened pulses. - -The door opened silently, and the servant announced loudly--"Mr. Dale," -and withdrew. - -The artist took a step or two forward, and then waited for a sign of -recognition, which did not come for a few moments, during which there -was a quick nervous palpitation going on in the lady's temples. - -Then she rose quickly, letting fall the book, and advanced towards the -visitor. - -"You are late," she said, in a low, deep, emotional voice. - -"I beg your ladyship's pardon," said Dale, looking wonderingly, and with -all an artist's admiration for the beautiful in nature, at the glowing -beauty of the woman whose eyes were turned with a soft appealing look in -his, while the parted lips curved into a smile which revealed her purely -white teeth. - -"I forgive you," she said softly, as she held out her hand--"now that -you have come." - -Armstrong Dale's action was the most natural in the world. He was in -London, and it was two years since he left Boston to increase his -knowledge of the world of art. He took the hand held out to him, and -for the moment was fascinated by the spell of the eyes which looked so -strangely deep down into his own. Then he was conscious of the soft -white hand clinging tightly to his with a pressure to which it had been -a stranger since he left the States. - -CHAPTER FOUR. - -AN UNEXPECTED SCENE. - -Armstrong Dale walked up and down his grim-looking, soot-smudged studio, -as if he had determined to wear a track on one side similar to that made -by a wild beast in his cage. - -"I won't go again," he said; "it's a kind of madness. Heavens! how -beautiful she is! And that man--that wretched, effete, miserable little -piece of conceit, with his insolent criticisms of my work. I felt as if -I could strangle him. If it had not been for her appealing looks, I -should have had a row with him before now. I will not put up with it. -But how she seems to hate him; how she--" - -"Bah! Brute! Idiot! Ass! Conceited fool! Because nature has given -you a decent face, can't a handsome woman look at you without your -thinking she admires you--can't she speak gently, and in her graceful -refined way, without your thinking that she is in love with you?" - -"It's all right, Cornel, my darling! I've been a fool--a conceited -fool; but I've got your sweet, innocent little face always before me, -the remembrance of your dear arms about my neck, and your kisses-- -armour, all of them, to guard me against folly. Pish! Fancy and -conceit! I will go, finish my painting, get it exhibited if I can, and -pile up Philistine gold as spoil to bear home to her who is to be my -very own." - -It was the third time of making this declaration, and, full of his -self-confidence, Dale made his way for the fourth time to Portland -Place, to find his pulses, which had been accelerating their rate, calm -down at once, for his reception by the Contessa was perfect, but there -was a mingling of annoyance with his satisfaction on finding that his -hostess was not alone. - -Lady Grayson, one of Valentina's greatest intimates, was there, a -handsome, arch-looking woman, widow of a wealthy old general, who, after -a long life of warfare in the East, had commenced another in the West, -but this was not even of seven years' duration before he fell. - -Lady Grayson smiled sweetly upon the artist as he entered; and he felt -that there was as much meaning in her words as in her looks. - -"I forgot this was your sitting day, Tina. Do you know, I thought -ladies always had to go to an artist's studio to be painted. There, I -suppose you two want to be alone?" - -"Pray, don't go," said Valentina calmly. "I do not suppose Mr. Dale -will mind you being present." - -"I? Not at all," said Armstrong. "It will not make any difference to -me." - -"Indeed!" said the lady archly, "I thought you might both want to talk." - -Armstrong Dale turned to his palette and brushes; and, as the Contessa -took up her position, he crossed to the window, half-closed the -shutters, and drew a curtain, so as to get the exact light upon his -sitter, whose eyes had met those of her dearest friend, and a silent -skirmish, none the less sharp for no words being spoken, went on. - -Dale returned to the front of his easel, and after a few words of -request to his sitter respecting her position, to which she responded by -a pained look, which made him shiver, he began to paint. - -"Oh, how clever!" cried Lady Grayson, who had resumed her seat. - -"Then she is waiting to see Cesare," thought the Contessa, smiling at -her friend. - -"Did you mean that dab I just made with my brush, Lady Grayson?" said -Armstrong coldly. - -"Fie! to speak so slightingly of your work. Dab, indeed! why, I have -had lessons in painting and ought to know. Every touch you give that -canvas shows real talent." - -"And with all due respect, Lady Grayson, I, as a man who has studied -hard in New York, Paris, Rome, and here in London, confidently say that -you are no judge." - -"I declare I am, sir," cried Lady Grayson merrily. "The fact is, you -are too modest.--Don't you think he is far too modest, dear?" - -"I am debarred from entering into the discussion," said the Contessa, -with a fixed smile. - -"Then I must do all the talking.--Capital! The portrait grows more like -at every touch. By the way, Mr. Dale, how is your big picture getting -on--the one I saw at your studio?" - -In spite of her self-command, Valentina turned pale, and a flash darted -from her eyes. - -She at his studio! - -Then she drew a long breath, the light in her eyes grew fixed, and there -was a peculiar hardening in her smile, as Armstrong went on painting, -and said calmly-- - -"The large mythological study I showed you and the Conte?" - -"Yes, that one," said Lady Grayson, who, in spite of her assurance, did -not dare to look at her friend, whose smile grew a little harder now, -though there was a feeling of triumph glowing at her heart, as she -detected her friend's slip. - -"Badly," said Armstrong quietly. "I beg your pardon, Lady Dellatoria; -that smile is too hard. Are you fatigued?" - -"Oh no," she replied; and the smile he was trying to transfer to the -canvas came back with a look which he avoided, and he continued -hastily-- - -"I cannot satisfy myself with my sitters. I want a good--a beautiful, -intense-looking--face, full of majesty, passion, and refinement; but the -models are all so hard and commonplace. I can find beautiful women to -sit, but there is a vulgarity in their faces where I want something -ethereal or spiritual." - -"Why not get the Contessa to sit?" - -"Or Lady Grayson?" said Valentina scornfully. - -"Oh, I should sit for Mr. Dale with pleasure." - -"My dear Henriette, how can you be so absurd?" - -"Oh, but I do not mean until you have quite done with him, dear." - -"You would not do," said Dale bluntly.--"Quite still now, please, Lady -Dellatoria." - -"Alack and alas! not to be beautiful. But would your present sitter -do?" - -"I should not presume to ask Lady Dellatoria to sit for a study in a -picture to be publicly exhibited," said the young man coldly. - -"But you--so famous.--Ah, here is the Conte!" - -"Yes; what is it?" said Dellatoria, entering. "Want me?" - -"I knew it," thought the Contessa. "It was an appointment." - -"Yes, to judge. That picture of Mr. Dale's. You know--the one we saw -that day at his studio." - -The Conte's eyes contracted a little, and he glanced at his wife, whose -face was calm and smiling. - -"Oh yes, I remember," he said--then, in an aside, "You little fool.-- -What about it?" he added aloud. - -"Mr. Dale can't find a model who would do for Juno. I was suggesting -that dearest Valentina should sit." - -"Very good of you, Lady Grayson," said the Conte shortly; "but her -ladyship does not sit for artists." - -"And Mr. Dale does not wish her ladyship to do so, sir," said the -artist, as haughtily as the Conte. - -"There, I've said something wrong," cried Lady Grayson. "Poor me! It's -time I went. I had no business to stay and hinder the painting. Good -morning, Mr. Dale. Good-bye, Valentina, dear. Ask the Conte to forgive -me." - -She bent down and kissed the beautiful face, which did not wince, but -there was war between two pairs of eyes. Then, turning round, she held -out her hand. - -"Good-bye, dreadful man. I'm too awfully sorry I cannot give you a lift -on my way back to the park." - -"No, thanks. By-the-by, yes; I want to go to Albert Gate. Would it be -taking you out of your way?" - -"Oh no. Delighted. My horses don't have half enough to do." - -"Then come along." - -Armstrong could not help glancing at the couple as they crossed towards -the door; and then as he turned back to the canvas his heart began to -beat painfully, for he heard a peculiar hissing sound as of a long deep -breath being drawn through teeth closely set, and a dangerous feeling of -pity entered his breast. He could not paint, but stood fixed with the -brush raised, completely mastered by the flood of thought which rushed -through his brain. He saw plainly how great cause there was for the -coldness and contempt with which the Contessa viewed her husband, and he -realised fully the truth of the rumours he had heard of how she--a -beautiful English girl--had been hurried into a fashionable marriage -with this contemptible, wealthy, titled man. What else could come of it -but such a life as he saw too plainly that they led! - -He fought against these thoughts, but vainly; and they only opened the -way to others still more dangerous. The first time he had met Lady -Dellatoria, when she visited his studio in company with her husband, she -had seemed attracted to him, and he had felt flattered by the eagerness -with which she listened to his words. Then came an invitation to dinner -at Portland Place, for the discussion of his undertaking the portrait. -That night, the Conte was called away to an engagement, and he was left -in that luxurious drawing-room, talking to the clever, refined, and -beautiful woman who seemed to hang upon his words. - -Soon after he went back to his studio half intoxicated by her smiles; -but the next morning he had grown more himself, and had a long talk with -Joe Pacey, his greatest intimate, and been advised to paint the portrait -by all means, but to hit hard for price. - -"Do you no end of good, boy; but take care of yourself; she's the most -beautiful woman in society." - -Dale had laughed contemptuously, accepted the commission, and matters -had gone on till it had come to this. He had been forced to be a -witness of the breach between husband and wife, the cruelty of the -treatment she received, and he had heard that painful drawing in of the -breath, as she sat there almost within touch. She, the suffering woman, -who had from the first accorded to him what had seemed to be the warmest -friendship; and now the blood rose to his brain, and his resolutions, -his fierce accusations, appeared to have been all in vain. - -He dared not look round in the terrible silence which had ensued. He -could only think that he was alone with the woman against whom his -friend had warned him, and for the moment, in the giddy sensation that -attacked him, he felt that he must rush from the room. - -Then he started, and the brush fell from his hand, for there was a quick -movement in the chair on his left, and he turned sharply, to find -Valentina's eyes filled with tears, but not dimmed so that he could not -read the yearning, passionate look with which she gazed at him, as she -said in a low, thrilling whisper-- - -"You heard--you saw--all. Have you no pity for me--no word to say?" - -For a few moments not a word. - -The Contessa rose and took a step toward him, with her hands raised -appealingly. - -"You do not--you cannot--understand," she half whispered, "or you would -speak to me. Can you not see how alone I am in the world, insulted, -outraged, by that man whose wife I was almost forced to become? Wife!" -she cried, "no, his slave, loaded with fetters of gold, which cut into -my flesh till my life becomes insufferable. Mr. Dale--Armstrong, I -thought you sympathised with me in my unhappy state. Have I not shown -you, since fate threw us so strangely together, that my life has been -renewed that everything has seemed changed?" - -He looked at her wildly, and the palette he held fell upon the rich -thick carpet in the struggle going on within his breast. - -"Are you dumb?" she whispered softly; "have you been blind to my -sufferings?" - -"No, no!" he cried. "Indeed, I have not. But you must not speak like -this. It is madness. I have seen and pitied. I have felt that your -husband--" - -"Husband!" she said contemptuously. - -"Oh, hash!" he cried. "Lady Dellatoria, you are angry--excited. Yes, I -see and know everything, but for your own sake, don't--for Heaven's -sake, don't speak to me like this." - -"Why," she said bitterly, "are you not honest and true?" - -"No," he cried wildly. "It is mere folly. It has all been a terrible -mistake my coming here. I cannot--I will not continue this work. It is -impossible. The Conte insults me. He is dissatisfied. Lady -Dellatoria, I cannot submit to all his--" - -He shrank from her, for her hand was laid upon his arm. - -"Yes," she said, as she raised her face towards his; "he insults you, as -he insults me; he--poor, weak, pitiful creature--insults you who are so -true and manly. I am not blind. I have seen all that you try to hide. -You pity me; you have shown yourself my sympathetic friend. Yes, and I -have seen more--all that you have tried so hard to hide in your -veneration--your love for a despairing woman. Mr. Dale--Armstrong," she -whispered--and her voice was low, tender, and caressing; her eyes -seeking his with a passionate, yearning look, which thrilled him--"don't -leave me now; I could not bear it." - -"Lady Dellatoria!" he panted wildly, as honour made one more stand in -his behalf. - -"Valentina," she whispered, "who casts off all a woman's reserve for -you, the first who ever taught her that, after all, there is such a -thing as love in this weary world, and with it hope and joy." - -The hands which had rested upon his arm rose to his shoulders, and -tightened about his neck, as she laid her burning face upon his breast. - -CHAPTER FIVE. - -LADY GRAYSON'S PURSE. - -With one quick motion, Armstrong threw Valentina back into her seat, and -snatched up palette and brushes, mad with rage and shame, as he made an -effort to go on painting. For the drawing-room door had been opened -with a good deal of rattling of the handle, and he expected that the -next minute he would have to turn and face the husband. - -But it was a woman's voice, full of irony and sarcasm, and he turned -sharply, to see that the Contessa sat back in her chair with a strangely -angry light in her dark eyes, gazing at Lady Grayson. - -"Pray forgive me, dear," said the latter mockingly. "So sorry to -disturb you. I was obliged to come back, for I have lost my purse. Did -I leave it here?" - -"How could you have left it here?" said the Contessa coldly, as she -quivered beneath her friend's gaze. - -"I thought, love, that perhaps I had drawn it out with my handkerchief. -It is so tiresome to lose one's purse; is it not, Mr. Dale?" - -"Worse, madam, not to have one to lose," said Armstrong, who was placing -his brushes in their case. - -"How droll you are," said Lady Grayson; "as if anybody except a beggar -could be without a purse. But surely you have not done painting the -portrait?" - -"Yes, Lady Grayson, I have done painting the portrait," replied Dale -gravely. - -"And all through my interruption. Oh, my dearest Valentina, how could I -be so indiscreet as to come and interrupt your charming sitting." - -"Would it be a sin to strangle this mocking wretch, who is triumphing -over her shame and my disgrace?" thought Dale. - -The Contessa was silent, and the situation growing maddening, when Lady -Grayson suddenly exclaimed--"Why, there! I told the dear Conte that I -felt sure I had dropped it here; and when I am influenced about anything -happening, as I was in this case, I am pretty sure to be right." - -She said this meaningly, with a smile at the other actors in the scene, -and then took a few steps toward the couch she had occupied, and, -picking from it the missing purse, held it up in triumph, and with her -eyes sparkling with malicious glee. - -"I am so glad," she cried; "I was so sure. Goodbye once more, dearest -Valentina. Good morning, Mr. Dale. Oh, you fortunate man," she -continued, gazing at the canvas. "To paint like that. Ah, well, -perhaps it may be my turn next," she added, with a mocking glance at the -Contessa. "What, you going too, Mr. Dale? Then I did spoil the -sitting." - -"No, madam," said Armstrong coldly; "your arrival was most opportune. -Lady Dellatoria, my man shall come for the canvas." - -Valentina darted a wildly reproachful look at him, which he met for a -moment, flushed, and turned from with a shiver. - -"May I see you to your carriage, Lady Grayson?" he said. - -"Oh, thank you, Mr. Dale: if you would. Goodbye, dearest," she cried, -with a triumphant mocking look at the fierce, beautiful face. "You must -let me drop you at your studio, Mr. Dale," she continued; and as the -door closed behind them, Valentina started from her chair to press her -hands to her temples, uttering a low, piteous moan. - -"Cast off! and for her!" she cried wildly. "She has always been trying -to lure him from me--him--my husband; and she could not rest in her -suspicions without coming back." - -She ran to the window to stand unseen, gazing down, and to her agony she -saw Dale step into the carriage, take his seat beside Lady Grayson, and -be carried off. - -Valentina turned from the window with her face convulsed, but it grew -smooth and beautiful, and there was a dreamy look in her eyes, and a -smile upon her parted, humid lips. - -"I am mad," she said to herself, with a mocking laugh. "He care for -her! Absurd! He loves me! In his brave fight he struggled hard, but-- -he loves me. His arms did hold me to his breast; his lips did press -mine. And she?--poor weak fool, with her transparent trick, to return -and play the spy. Let her know, and have a hold upon me, and defy me -about Cesare. She will threaten me some day if I revile her. Poor -fool! I am the stronger--stronger than ever now. I could defy the -world, for, in spite of his cold looks, his anger against himself--he -loves me." - -She raised her eyes and stood looking straight before her for some -moments, and then started, but recovered herself and smiled as she gazed -at the figure before her in one of the mirror-filled panels of the room. - -For she saw reflected there a face and figure that she felt no man could -resist, and the smile upon her face grew brighter, the dreamy look -intensified, as she murmured-- - -"At last! After these long, barren, weary years, love, the desire of a -woman's life;" and closing her eyes, she slowly extended her arms as, in -a whisper soft as the breath of eve, she murmured, "At last! Come back -to me, my love--my life--my god." - -CHAPTER SIX. - -WHAT PACEY SAW IN THE CLOUDS. - -Three weeks soon pass in busy London, but to Armstrong Dale the -twenty-one days which ensued after the scene at Portland Place were like -months of misery. - -Stern in his resolve to avoid all further entanglement, and to keep -faith to her whom in his heart of hearts he loved, he shut himself up in -his studio, and made a desperate attack upon his great mythological -picture, a broad high canvas, at which Keren-Happuch stared -open-mouthed, when she went into the studio every morning "to do Mr. -Dale up"--a feat which consisted in brushing the fluff about from one -corner to another, and resulted in a good deal of sniffing, and the -lodging of more dust upon casts, ledges, furniture, and above all, upon -Keren-Happuch's by no means classical features, where it adhered, -consequent upon a certain labour-and-exercise-produced moisture which -exuded from the maiden's skin. - -"I can't help looking smudgy," she used to say; and directly after, -"Comin', mum," for her name was shouted in an acid voice by Mrs. -Dunster, the elderly lady who let the studio and rooms in Fitzroy Square -to any artist who would take them for a time. - -But the poor little slavey was Keren-Happuch to that lady alone. To -Armstrong she was always Miranda, on account of her friend, the -dirty-white cat of the kitchen; to his artist friends such names as -seemed good to them, and suited to their bizarre thoughts. - -To Armstrong one morning came Keren-Happuch, as he was painting out his -previous day's work upon his great picture, and she stood staring with -her mouth open. - -"Oh, Mr. Dale, sir, what a shame! What would Miss Montmorency say?" - -"What about, Miranda?" - -"You a-smudging out her beautiful figure as you took such pains to -paint. Why, she was a-talking to me 'bout it, sir, when she was a-goin' -yesterday, and said she was goin' to be Queen June-ho at the 'cademy." - -"But she will not be, Miranda," said Armstrong sadly; "it was execrable. -Ah, my little lass, what a pity it is that you could not stand for the -figure." - -"Me, sir! Oh, my!" cried the girl, giggling. "Why, I'm a perfect -sight. And, oh!--I couldn't, you know. I mustn't stop, sir. I on'y -come to tell you I was opening the front top winder, and see your funny -friend, Mr. Pacey, go into Smithson's. He always do before he comes -here." - -"Keren-Happuch!" came faintly from below. - -"Comin', mum," cried the girl, and she dashed out of the studio. - -"Poor, patient little drudge!" said Armstrong, half aloud. "Well -washed, neatly clothed, spoken to kindly, and not worked to death, what -a good faithful little lassie she would be for a house. I wish Cornel -could see her, and see her with my eyes." - -He turned sharply, for there was a step--a heavy step--on the stair, and -the artist's sad face brightened. - -"Good little prophetess too. Here's old Joe at last. Where's the -incense-box?" - -He took a tobacco-jar from a cupboard and placed it upon the nearest -table, just as the door opened and a big, heavy, rough, grey-haired man -entered, nodded, and, placing his soft felt hat upon his heavy stick, -dropped into an easy-chair. - -"Welcome, little stranger!" cried Armstrong merrily. "Why tarried the -wheels of your chariot so long?" - -There was no answer, but the visitor fixed his deeply set piercing eyes -upon his brother artist. - -"Was there a smoke somewhere last night, old lad, and the whisky of an -evil brew?" - -"No!" said the visitor shortly. - -"Why, Joe, old lad, what's the matter? Coin run out?" - -"No!" - -"But there is something, old fellow," said Armstrong. "Can I help you?" -And, passing his brush into the hand which held his palette, he grasped -the other by the shoulder. - -"Don't touch me," cried the visitor angrily, and he struck Armstrong's -hand aside. - -There was a pause, and then the latter said gravely-- - -"Joe, old fellow, I don't want to pry into your affairs, but if I can -counsel or help you, don't shrink from asking. Can I do anything?" - -"Yes--much." - -"Hah! that's better," cried Armstrong, as if relieved. "What's the good -of an Orestes, if Pú does not come to him when he is in a hole! But you -are upset. There's no hurry. Fill your pipe, and give me a few words -about my confounded picture while you calm down. Joe, old man, it's -mythological, and it's going to turn out a myth. Isn't there a woman in -London who could sit for my Juno?" - -"Damn all women!" cried the visitor, in a deep hoarse tone. - -"Well, that's rather too large an order, old fellow. Come, fill your -pipe. Now, let's have it. What's wrong--landlady?" - -The eyes of the man to whom he had been attracted from his first arrival -in London, the big, large-hearted, unsuccessful artist, who yet -possessed more ability than any one he knew, and whose advice was -eagerly sought by a large circle of rising painters, were fixed upon him -so intently that the colour rose in Armstrong Dale's cheeks, and, in -spite of his self-control, the younger man looked conscious. - -"Then it's all true," said Pacey bitterly. - -"What's all true?" cried Dale. - -"Armstrong, lad, I passed a bitter night, and I thought I would come -on." - -The young artist was silent, but his brow knit, and there was a -twitching about the corner of his eyes. - -"I sat smoking hard--ounces of strong tobacco; and in the clouds I saw a -frank, good-looking young fellow, engaged to as sweet and pure a woman -as ever breathed, coming up to this hell or heaven, London, whichever -one makes of it, and going wrong. Ulysses among the Sirens, lad; and -they sang too sweetly for him--that is, one did. The temptation was -terribly strong, and he went under." - -Armstrong's brow was dark as night now, and he drew his breath hard. - -"Do you know what that meant, Armstrong? You are silent. I'll tell -you. It meant breaking the heart of a true woman, and the wrecking of a -man. He had ability--as a painter--and he could have made a name, but -as soon as he woke from his mad dream, all was over. The zest had gone -out of life. You know the song, lad--`A kiss too long--and life is -never the same again.'" - -"I made you my friend, Joe Pacey," said Armstrong huskily, "but by what -right do you dare to come preaching your parables here?" - -"Parable, man? It is the truth. Eight? I have a right to tell you -what wrecked my life--the story of twenty years ago." - -"Joe!" - -There was a gripping of hands. - -"Ah! That's better. I tell you because history will repeat itself. -Armstrong, lad, you have often talked to me of the one who is waiting -and watching across the seas. Look at me--the wreck I am. For God's -sake--for hers--your own, don't follow in my steps." - -Neither spoke for a few minutes, and then with his voice changed-- - -"I can't humbug, Joe," said Armstrong. "Of course I understand you. -You mean about--my commission." - -"Yes, and I did warn you, lad. It is the talk of every set I've been -into lately. There is nothing against her, but her position with that -miserable hound, Dellatoria, is well-known. He insults her with his -mistresses time after time. Her beauty renders her open to scandal, and -they say what I feared is true." - -"What? Speak out." - -"That she is madly taken with our handsome young artist." - -"They say that?" - -"Yes, and I gave them the lie. Last night I had it, though more -definitely. I was at the Van Hagues--all artistic London goes there, -and a spiteful, vindictive woman contrived, by hints and innuendoes, as -she knew I was your friend, to let me know the state of affairs." - -"Lady Grayson?" - -"The same." - -"The Jezebel!" - -"And worse, lad. But, Armstrong, my lad--I have come then too late?" - -Pride and resentment kept Dale silent for a few moments, and then he -said huskily-- - -"It is false." - -"But it is the talk of London, my lad, and it means when it comes to -Dellatoria's ears--Bah! a miserable organ-grinder by rights--endless -trouble. Perhaps a challenge. Brutes who have no right to name the -word honour yell most about their own, as they call it." - -"It is not true--or--there, I tell you it is not true." - -"Not true?" - -For answer Armstrong walked to the side of the studio, took a large -canvas from where it stood face to the wall, and turned it to show the -Contessa's face half painted. - -"Good," said Pacey involuntarily, "but--" - -"Don't ask me any more, Joe," said Dale. "Be satisfied that history is -not going to repeat itself. I have declined to go on with the -commission." - -"Armstrong, lad," cried Pacey, springing from his seat, and clapping his -hands on the young man's shoulders to look him intently in the eyes. -"Bah!" he literally roared, "and I spoiled my night's rest, and--Here: -got any whisky, old man? 'Bacco? Oh, here we are;" and he dragged a -large black briar-root, well burned, from his breast and began to fill -it. Then, taking a common box of matches from his pocket--a box he had -bought an hour before from a beggar in the street, he threw himself back -in the big chair, lifted one leg, and gave the match a sharp rub on his -trousers, lit up, sending forth volumes of cloud, and in an entirely -different tone of voice, said quite blusteringly-- - -"Now then, about that goddess canvas; let's have a smell at it. Hah! -yes, you want a Juno--a living, breathing divinity, all beauty, scorn, -passion, hatred. No, my lad, there are plenty of flesh subjects who -would do as well as one of Titian's, and you could beat an Etty into -fits; but there isn't a model in London who could sit for the divine -face you want. Your only chance is to evolve it from your mind as you -paint another head." - -"Yes; perhaps you are right," said Dale dreamily. "Sure I am. There, -go in and win, my lad. You'll do it.--Hah! that's good whisky.--My dear -old fellow, I might have known. I ought to have trusted you." - -"Don't say any more about it." - -"But I must, to ease my mind. I ought to have known that my young -Samson would not yield to any Delilah, and be shorn of his manly -locks.--Yes, that's capital whisky. I haven't had a drop since -yesterday afternoon. A toast: `Confound the wrong woman.' Hang them," -he continued after a long draught, "they're always coming to you with -rosy apples in their hands or cheeks, and saying, `Have a bite,' You -don't want to paint portraits. You can paint angels from clay to bring -you cash and fame. Aha, my goddess of beauty and brightness, I salute -thee, Bella Donna, in Hippocrene!" - -"Oh, do adone, Mr. Pacey," said the lady addressed to wit, -Keren-Happuch. "I never do know what you mean, I declare,"--(sniff)--"I -wouldn't come into the studio when you're here if I wasn't obliged. -Please, Mr. Dale, sir, here's that French Mossoo gentleman. He says, -his compliments, and are you too busy to see him?" - -"No, Hebe the fair, he is not," cried Pacey. "Tell him there is a -symposium on the way, and he is to ascend." - -"A which, sir? Sym--sym--" - -"Sym--whisky, Bella Donna." - -The girl glanced at Dale, who nodded his head, and she hurried out. The -door opened the next minute to admit a slight little man, most carefully -dressed, and whose keen, refined features, essentially French, were full -of animation. - -"Ah, you smoke, and are at rest," he said. "Then I am welcome. Dear -boys, both of you. And the picture?" - -He stood, cigarette in teeth, gazing at the large canvas for a few -moments. - -"Excellent! So good!" he cried. "Ah, Dale, my friend, you would be -great, but you do so paint backwards." - -"Eh?" cried Pacey. - -"I mean, my faith, he was much more in advance a month ago. There was a -goddess here. Where is she now?" - -"Behind the clouds," said Pacey, forming one of a goodly size; and the -others helped in a more modest way, as an animated conversation ensued -upon art, Pacey giving his opinions loudly, and with the decision of a -judge, while the young Frenchman listened to his criticism, much of it -being directed at a flower-painting he had in progress. - -The debate was at its height, when the little maid again appeared with a -note in her hand. - -"Aha!" cried Pacey, who was in the highest spirits--"maid of honour to -the duchess--the flower of her sex again. Hah! how sweet the perfume of -her presence wafted to my sense of smell." - -"Oh, do adone, please, Mr. Pacey, sir. You're always making game of me. -I'll tell missus you call her the duchess--see if I don't. It ain't me -as smells: it's this here letter, quite strong. Please, Mr. Dale, sir, -it was left by that lady in her carriage." - -"Keren-Happuch!" came from below stairs as the girl handed Dale the -note; and his countenance changed as he involuntarily turned his eyes to -his friend. - -"Keren-Happuch!" came again. - -"Comin', mum," shouted the girl, thrusting her head for a moment through -the ajar door, and turning back again. - -"Said there wasn't no answer, sir." - -"Keren-Happuch!" - -"A call from the Duchess of Fitzroy Square," said Pacey merrily. - -"No, sir, it was that Hightalian lady, her as is painted there," said -the girl innocently, and pointing to the canvas leaning against the -wall, as she ran out. - -"Confound her!" roared Pacey, springing to his feet, and turning upon -his friend, with his eyes flashing beneath his shaggy brows; "is there -no such thing as truth in this cursed world?" - -"What do you mean?" cried Dale hotly, as he crushed the scented note in -his hand. - -"Samson and Delilah," said Pacey, with savage mockery in his tones. -"Here, Leronde, lad," he continued, taking up his glass, "a toast for -you--Vive la gallantry. Bah!" - -He lifted the glass high above his head, but did not drink. He gave -Armstrong a fierce, contemptuous look, and dashed the glass into the -grate, where it was shivered to atoms. - -CHAPTER SEVEN. - -THE SCENTED NOTE. - -Leronde stood for a moment watching his friends excitedly; and then, as -Pacey moved towards the door, he sprang before it. - -"No, no!" he cried; "you two shall not quarrel. I will not see it. -You, my two artist friends who took pity on me when I fly--I, a -communard--for my life from Paris. You, Pacie, who say I am brother of -the crayon, and help me to sell to the dealaire; you, Dale, dear friend, -who say, `Come, ole boy, and here is papaire and tobacco for cigarette,' -and at times the dinner and the bock of biere, and sometimes wine--you -shake hands, both of you. I, Alexis Leronde, say you muss." - -"Silence!" roared Pacey. "Whoever heard of good coming of French -mediation?" - -"Be quiet, Leronde," cried Armstrong firmly. "Joe, old fellow, let me-- -a word--explain." - -"Explain?" growled Pacey, as the young Parisian shrugged his shoulders -and stood aside to begin rolling up a cigarette with his thin deft -fingers. - -"Stop, Joe!" cried Armstrong, "you shall not go. The letter is some -request about the picture--for another artist to finish it. Here, read -it, and satisfy yourself." - -He tore open the scented missive, glanced at it, and was about to hand -it over to his friend; but a few words caught his eye, and he crushed -the paper in his hand, to stand flushed and frowning before his friend. - -"All right: I see," said the latter, with a bitter, contemptuous laugh. -"We're a paltry, weak lot, we men. Poor little daughter of the stars -and stripes across the herring-pond! I'm sorry, for I did think I could -believe your word." - -"Dear boys--ole men!" cried Leronde, advancing once more to play -mediator. - -"Shut up!" roared Pacey, so fiercely that the young Frenchman frowned, -folded his arms across his chest, and puffed out a cloud of smoke in -defiance. - -"Joe, I swear--" - -"Thank you," said Pacey ironically. "I can do enough of that as I go -home;" and, swinging open the door, he strode out and went downstairs, -whistling loudly the last popular music-hall air. - -"Aha! he flies," cried Leronde, biting through his cigarette, the -lighted end falling to the floor, while he ground up the other between -his teeth. "I go down. He insult me--he insult you, my dear friend. I -pull his nose on ze door mat, and say damn." - -"Be quiet, lad!" cried Armstrong fiercely. "It is nothing to do with -you. It is my affair." - -"Yes, I understand, dear ole man," said Leronde, placing his fingers to -his lips, and nodding his head a great deal, while Armstrong stood -dreamy and thoughtful, frowning, as if undecided what to do. "I know I -am French--man of the whole world, my friend. I love the big Pacie. So -good, so noble, but he is not young and handsome. The lady, she -prefaire my other good friend. What marvel? And the good Pacie is -jealous." - -"No, no; you do not understand." - -"But, yes. Cherchez la femme! It is so always. They make all the -mischief in the great world, but we love them always the same." - -"I tell you that you do not understand," cried Armstrong angrily. - -"Well, no; but enough, my friend. Ah, there is so much in a lettaire -that is perfumed. I do not like it; you two are such good friends--my -best friends; you, the American, he, the big honest Jean Bull. I do not -like you to fight, but there, what is it?--a meeting for the honour in -Hyde Park, a few minutes wiz the small sword, a scratch, and then you -embrace, and we go to the dejeuner better friends than before. You are -silent. I will make another cigarette." - -"I was thinking," said Dale slowly. - -"What--you fear to ask me to be your second? Be of good courage, my -friend. I will bear your cartel of defiance, and ask him who is his -friend." - -"Bah!" ejaculated Dale, so roughly that Leronde frowned. "There, don't -take any notice of me, old fellow," he cried. "Sit down and smoke. You -will excuse me." - -Leronde bowed, and Armstrong hurried into his inner room, where he -smoothed out the note, and read half aloud and in a disconnected way:-- - -"_How can you stay away--those long weary weeks--my unhappy state--force -me to write humbly--appealingly--my wretched thoughts--Lady Grayson--her -double looks of triumph over me--will not believe it of you--could not -be so base for such a heartless woman as that--heartbroken--my first and -only love--won from me my shameless avowal--not shameless--a love as -true as ever given--for you so good and noble. In despair--no rest but -in the grave--forgive your coldness. Come back to me or I shall die-- -die now when hope, love, and joy are before me. You must--you shall--I -pray by all that is true and manly in your nature--or in my mad -recklessness and despair I shall cast consequences to the winds and come -to you_." - -Dale crushed up the letter once again, and as he stood frowning and -thoughtful, he struck a match, lit the paper, and held it in his hand -till it had completely burned out, scorching his hand the while. Then, -going to the window, he blew the tinder out and saw it fall. - -"The ashes of a dead love," he muttered; and then quickly, "No, it was -not love. The mad fancy of the moment. There, it is all over. Poor -woman! if all she says is honest truth, she must fight it down, and -forgive me if I have been to blame. Yes; some day I can tell her. She -will not forgive me, for there is nothing to forgive. Poor little -woman! Ah, if the one who loves us could see and know all--the life, -the thoughts of the wisest and best man who ever breathed! Nature, you -are a hard mistress. Well, that is over; but poor old Joe! He will -find out the truth, though, and ask my pardon. Everything comes to the -man who waits." - -He crossed to a desk lying on a table by his bed, opened it, took out a -photograph, and gazed at it for a few moments before replacing it with a -sigh. - -"You can be at rest, little one. Surely I am strong enough to keep my -word." - -Then he started and bit his lip, for a hot flush came to his temples as -the last words in the letter he had burned rose before him: "_cast -consequences to the winds and come to you_." - -He shivered at the idea, as for the moment he saw the beautiful, -passionate woman standing before him with her pleading eyes and -outstretched hands. - -"No!" he cried aloud, "she would not go to the man who treats her with -silence and--" - -"Did you call me, mon ami?" said a voice at the door. - -"No, old fellow; I'm coming," cried Dale; and then to himself, as one -who has mastered self. "That is all past and gone--in ashes to the -winds. Now for work." - -CHAPTER EIGHT. - -IN THE SCALES. - -"Nothing like hard work. I've conquered," said Dale to himself one -morning, as he sat toiling away at his big picture, whose minor portions -were standing out definitely round the principal figure, which had been -painted in again and again, but always to be cleaned off in disgust, and -was now merely sketched in charcoal. - -He was waiting patiently for the model who was to attend to stand for -that figure--the figure only--for Pacey's idea had taken hold, and, -though he could not dwell upon it without a nervous feeling of dread, -and asking himself whether it was not dangerous ground to take, he had -determined, as he thought, to prove his strength, to endeavour to -idealise the Contessa's features for his Juno. It was the very -countenance he wished to produce, and if he could have caught her -expression and fixed it upon canvas that day when the Conte entered, so -evidently by preconcerted arrangement with Lady Grayson, the picture -would have been perfect. - -"It need not be like her," he argued; "it is the expression I want." - -He knew that in very few hours he could produce that face with its -scornful eyes, but he always put it off. - -After a time, when the trouble there was not so fresh, it would be more -easy--"and the power to paint it as I saw it then have grown faint," he -added in despair, with the consequence that between the desire to paint -a masterpiece, and the temptation to which he had been exposed, the face -of Lady Dellatoria was always before him, sleeping and waking; though -had he made a strong effort to cast out the recollection of those -passionate, yearning eyes, the letters he received from time to time -would have kept the memory fresh. - -"At last!" he cried that morning, as steps were heard upon the stairs. -"But she has not a light foot. I remember, though: they told me that -she was a fine, majestic-looking woman." - -There was a tap at the door. - -"Come in." - -Jupiter himself, in the person of Daniel Jaggs, thrust in his noble -head. - -"All right, Emperor, come in," said Dale, going on painting, giving -touches to the background of his Olympian scene, with its group of -glowing beauties, who were to be surpassed by the majesty of the -principal figure still to come. "What is it? Don't want you to-day." - -"No, sir. I knowed it was a lady day, but I've come with a message from -one." - -"Not from Lady--" - -He ceased speaking, and his heart beat heavily. Jaggs had been to and -from Portland Place with the canvas. Had she made him her messenger? - -"Yes, sir; from Lady Somers Town." - -"What?" cried Dale, with a sigh of relief, though, to his agony, he felt -that he longed to hear from the Contessa again. - -"Lady Somers Town, sir; that's what Mr. Pacey used to call her. Miss -Vere Montesquieu of the Kaiserinn." - -"Miss Vere Montesquieu!" said Dale contemptuously. - -"Well, that's what she calls herself, sir. Did you say what was her -real name, sir?" - -"No, I didn't, but I thought it. Oh, by the way, Jaggs, I must have -another sitting or two from you. We haven't quite caught the expression -of Jupiter's lips." - -"No, sir, we haven't, sir," said the model, looking at the canvas -wistfully. "I know azactly what you want, but it's so hard to put it -on." - -"It is, Jaggs." - -"You want him to be looking as he would if he was afraid of his missus, -and she'd just found him out at one of his games." - -"That's it." - -"Well, sir, I'll try again. Perhaps I can manage it next time. I was a -bit on the other night, and I did get it pretty warm when I went home. -I'll try and feel like I did then, next time I'm a settin'." - -"Yes, do," said Dale, who kept on with his work. "Ah, that's better. -Well, you were going to say something. Is anything wrong?" - -"Well, sir, I'm only a poor model, and it ain't for me to presoom." - -"Lookers-on see most of the game, Jaggs. What is it?" - -"Well, sir, I was looking at Jupiter's corpus." - -"Eh? See something out of drawing?" - -"No, sir; your nattomy's all right, of course. Never see it wrong. -You're splendid on 'ticulation, muskle, and flesh. But that's Sam -Spraggs as sat for the body, wasn't it?" - -"Yes; I've fitted it to your head." - -"Well, sir, not to presoom, do you feel sure as it wouldn't be more -god-like, more Jupitery as you may say, if you let me set, painted that -out, and give the head the proper body. Be more nat'ral like, wouldn't -it?" - -"No. What's the matter with that?--the composition of a more muscular -man with your head is, I think, excellent." - -"But it ain't nat'ral like, sir. You see, Sam's too fat." - -"Oh no, Jaggs. He only looks as if Hebe and Ganymede had poured him out -good potions of a prime vintage, and as if the honey of Hybla often -melted in his mouth." - -"Well, sir, you knows best. Maria Budd says--" - -"Who?" - -"Miss Montesquieu, sir. She's old Budd's--the Somers Town -greengrocer's--gal." - -"Humph! Idiot! Well, what message has she sent? Not coming again?" - -"No, sir. She's very sorry, sir; but she's got an engagement to early -dinner at Brighton to-day, and won't only be back in time to take her -place in the chorus to-night." - -"Confound the woman! I shall never get the figure done. Do you know of -any one else, Jaggs?" - -"No, sir; and I'm afraid that you won't after all be satisfied with -her." - -"All, well, you needn't wait. Seen Mr. Pacey lately?" - -"Yes, sir. Looks very ill, he do. Good morning, sir." - -"Good morning." - -"Beg pardon, sir; but my missus--" - -"There, there, I don't want to hear a long string of your inventions, -Jaggs. How much do you want?" - -"Oh, thankye, sir. If you could manage to let me have five shillings on -account.--Thankye, sir. You are a gentleman." - -"The Emperor" departed, winking to himself as if he had something on his -mind; and Dale threw down brushes and palette, sat back with his hands -clasped behind his head, gazing at the blank place in his great canvas, -till by slow degrees it was filled, and in all her majestic angry beauty -Juno stood there, with her attendants shrinking and looking on, while -she seemed to be flashing at her lord lightnings more terrible than -those he held in his hand. - -The face, the wondrous figure, in all its glow of mature womanhood, were -there; and then the eyes seemed to turn upon Dale a look of love and -appeal to him to think upon her piteous state, vowed to love and honour -such a man as that. - -Armstrong shuddered and wrenched his eyes away, wondering at the power -of his vivid imagination, which had conjured up before him the Contessa -in all the pride of her womanly beauty; and strive how he might to think -of her only in connection with his picture, as he felt that he could -produce her exactly there, and make the group a triumph of his work, he -knew that his thoughts were of another cast, and that, in spite of all, -this woman had inspired him with a passion that enthralled his very -soul. - -He started up, for the maid entered with a letter, and he fancied that -she seemed to read his thoughts, as he took it and threw it carelessly -on the table. - -He did not look at the address. There was the Conte's florid crest, -face upward, and it lay there ready to be burned as soon as he left his -seat, for the matches were over the fireless grate. - -Keren-Happuch had reached the door. - -"'Tain't scented up like some on 'em," she said to herself; and then she -turned to look wistfully at the artist, whose eyes were fixed upon -vacancy, for he was reading the letter in imagination. He knew every -word of sorrowful reproach it would contain, for the letters were little -varied. She would tell him of her solitary state, beg him to reconsider -his decision, and ask him whether, in spite of the world and its laws, -it was not a man's duty to take compassion upon the woman who loved him -with all her heart. Yes: he could read it all. - -"Must get away," he said to himself. "Why not go back home, and seek -for safety behind the armour of her innocency? My poor darling, I want -to be true to you, but I am sorely tempted now. It cannot be love; only -a vile, degrading passion from which I must flee, for I am--Heaven -knows, how weak." - -"Ain't yer well, sir?" said Keren-Happuch, in commiserating tones. - -He started, not knowing that the girl was there. - -"Well? Oh yes, Miranda, quite well." - -"No, you ain't, sir, I know; and it ain't because you smokes too much, -nor comes home all tipsy like some artisses does, for I never let you in -when you wasn't just what you are now, the nicest gent we ever had -here." - -"Why, you wicked little flatterer, what does this mean?" cried Dale -merrily. - -"No, sir, and that won't do," said the girl. "I'm little, but I'm -precious old, and I've seen and knows a deal. You ain't well, sir!" - -"Nonsense, girl! I'm quite well. There, run away." - -"No, sir, there ain't no need; she's out. There's no one at home but me -and puss. I can talk to you to-day without her knowing and shouting -after me. She 'ates me talking to the lodgers.--I knows you ain't -well." - -"What rubbish, my girl! I'm well enough." - -"Oh no; you ain't, sir. I don't mean poorly, and wants physic, but ill -with wherritin', same as I feels sometimes when I gets it extry from -missus. I know what's the matter; you've got what Mr. Branton had when -he spent six months over his 'cademy picture as was lovely, and they -sent it back. He said it was the blues. That's what you've got, -because you can't get on with yours, which is too lovely to be sent -back. I know what a bother you've had to get a model for the middle -there, and it worries you." - -"Well, yes, Miranda, my girl, I'll confess it does." - -"I knowed it," she cried, clapping her hands; "and just because you're -bothered, none of the gents don't seem to come and see you now. Mr. -Leerondee ain't been, and Mr. Pacey don't seem to come anigh you. -Sometimes I feel glad, because he teases me so, and allus says things I -don't understand. But I don't mind: I wish he'd come now and cheer you -up." - -"Oh, I shall be all right, Mirandy, my little lassie, as soon--" - -"Yes, that you will, sir, because you must get it done, you know. It is -lovely." - -"Think so?" said Dale, who felt amused by the poor, thin, smutty little -object's interest in his welfare. - -"Think so! Oh, there ain't no thinking about it. I heard Mr. Pacey -tell Mr. Leerondee that it was the best thing he ever see o' yours. I -do want you to get it done, sir. It seems such a pity for that big bit -in the middle not to be painted." - -"Yes, girl; but it must wait." - -"Mr. Dale, sir, you won't think anything, will you?" - -"Eh? What about?" - -"'Cause of what I'm going to say, sir," she said bashfully. "I do want -you to get that picture well hung, sir, and make your fortune, and get -to be a RúA." - -"Thank you. What were you going to say?" - -"Only, sir, as I wouldn't for any one else; no, not if it was for the -Prince o' Wales, or the Dook o' Edinburgh hisself, but I would for you." - -"I don't understand you," said Dale, wondering at the girl's manner. - -"I meant, sir, as sooner--sooner--than you shouldn't get that picture -done and painted proper, I'd come and stand for that there figure -myself." Dale wanted to burst out laughing at the idea of the poor, -ill-nurtured, grubby little creature becoming his model for the mature, -graceful Juno; but there was so much genuine desire to help him, so much -naive innocency in the poor little drudge's words, that he contained -himself, and before he could think of how to refuse without hurting her -feelings, there was a resonant double knock and ring at the front door. - -"Why, if it ain't the postman again," cried the girl. "He was here just -now. I know: it's one o' them mail letters, as they calls 'em, from -foreign abroad." - -Keren-Happuch was right, for she came panting up directly with a thin -paper envelope in her hand, branded "Boston, UúSúA." - -"For you, sir," she said; and she looked at him wistfully, as in an -emotional way he snatched the letter from her hand and pressed it to his -lips. - -"Salvation!" he muttered, as he turned away to go to the inner room. -"God bless you, darling! You are with me once again. I never wanted -you worse." - -"It's from his sweetheart over acrost the seas," said Keren-Happuch, as -she spread her dirty apron on the balustrade, so as not to soil the -mahogany with her hand as she leaned upon it to go down, sadly. "And -he's in love, too; that's what's the matter with him. Puss, puss, -puss!" - -There was a soft mew, and a dirty-white cat trotted up to meet her, and -leaped up to climb to her thin shoulders, and then rub its head -affectionately against her head, to the disarrangement of her dirty cap. - -"Ah! don't stick your claws through my thin clothes.--Yes," she mused, -"he's in love. Wonder what people feel like who are in love, and -whether anybody 'll ever love me. Don't suppose any one ever will: I'm -such a poor-looking sort o' thing. But it don't matter. You like me, -don't you, puss? And them as is in love don't seem to be very happy -after all." - -CHAPTER NINE. - -THE MODEL. - -Armstrong Dale did not hear the door close. Picture--the Contessa-- -everything was forgotten, and for the time he was back in Boston. For -he had thrown himself into a chair, and torn open the envelope. But he -could not rest like that. He wanted room, and he came back to begin -striding about his studio, reading as he walked. - -But it did not seem to him like reading, for the words he scanned took -life and light and tone as he grasped the pure, sweet, trusting words of -the writer, breathing her intense love for the man to whom she had -plighted her troth. And as in imagination he listened to the sweet -breathings of her affection, and revelled in her homely prattle about -those he knew, and her hopeful talk of the future, when he would have -grown famous and returned home to the honours which would be showered -upon him by his people--to the welcome for him in that one true -throbbing heart, his own throbbed, too, heavily, and his eyes grew moist -and dim. - -"God bless you, darling!" he cried passionately; "you have saved me when -I was tottering on the brink and ready to fall. The touch of your dear -hand has drawn me back when all was over, as I thought. I will keep -faith with you, Cornel. Forgive me, love! Heaven help me; how could I -be so mad!" - -There was a brightness directly after in his eyes, as he carefully -bestowed the letter in his pocket-book and placed it in his breast. - -"And they say the day of miracles is past, and that there is no magic in -the world," he cried proudly. "Poor fools! they don't know. Lie there, -little talisman. You are only a scrap of paper stained with ink, but -you are a charm of the strongest magic. Bah! It was all a passing -madness, and I have won. What a silly, weak, morbid state I was in," he -continued, as he stood in front of his picture, and snatched up palette -and brushes. "Why, Cornel darling, you have burned up all the clouds -with the bright sun of your dear love. And I can finish you now, my -good old daub. Jupiter can easily have that hang-dog, cowardly, -found-out look imported into his phiz. I feel as if I can see, and do -it now. The nymphs are as good as anything I have done. I don't always -satisfy myself, but that background is jolly. I've got so much light -and sunshine into it, such a dreamy, golden atmosphere effect, that it -brightens the whole thing, and what a nuisance it is that old Turner -ever lived! If he had never been born, my background would have been -grand. As it is--well, it's only an imitation. No, no; come, old -fellow: say, a good bit of work by an honest student of old Turner's -style. Yes," he continued, drawing back, "I think it will do. Even -dear old Joe praised that; he said it wasn't so bad. Poor old chap! I -wish we were friends again. And as for my Juno, I think I can manage -her. Montesquieu shall come--esquieu--askew--no, not askew; I'll get -her into a noble, dignified position somehow. I hope she has a good -figure. While her face--why, Cornel, my darling, it shall be yours." - -He paused to stand thoughtfully before the great canvas, drawn out upon -its easel into the best light cast down from the sky panes above, and -let his mahlstick rest upon the picture just above the blank, -paint-stained portion left for the principal figure. - -"Queer way of working," he said with a laugh, "finishing the -surroundings before putting in the mainspring of my theme. That's -hardly fair, though, for I painted my Juno first--ah! how many times, -and rubbed her out. Never mind; she must come strong now to stand out -well in front of these figures. She must--she shall." - -He stood there motionless for a few minutes; and then, quite eagerly-- - -"Why not?" he said. "Too soft, sweet, and gentle-looking? Cornel, -darling, it shall be an expiation of a fault, and some day in the future -you shall stand before it and gaze in your own true face as I have -painted you--made grand, crushing, majestic, full of scorn and contempt, -as it would have been, had you stood face to face with me, awaking to -the fact that I was utterly lost, unworthy of your love. I can--I -will--paint that face, and that day, darling, when you turn to me with -those questioning eyes, and tell me you could not have looked like this, -you shall know the truth." - -The inspiration was there, and with wonderful skill and rapidity he -began to sketch in the face glowing before him in his imagination. No -model could have given him the power to paint in so swiftly those -lineaments, which began to live upon the canvas as the hours went on. -For he was lost to everything but the task before him, and he grew -flushed and excited as the noble frowning brow threatened, and then by a -few deft touches those wonderful liquid eyes began to blaze with -passionate scorn. The ruddy, beautifully curved lips were parted, -revealing the glistening teeth; and at last, how long after he could not -tell, he shrank away from the great canvas, to gaze at the features he -had limned, trembling, awe-stricken, knowing that his work was masterly, -but asking himself whether the painting was his, or some occult -spiritual deed of which he had been the mere animal mechanism, worked by -the powers of evil to blast him for ever. - -His lips were parched, his tongue and throat felt dry with the fever -which burned within him, as he stood trying to gather the courage to -seize a cloth and wipe out the face that gazed at him and made him -shrink in his despair. - -He dragged his eyes from the canvas, and looked wildly round the great -studio, where all was silent as the grave. The bright light had passed -away; and he knew that it must be about sunset, for all was cold and -grey, save the shadows in the corners of the room, and they were black. -Everything was growing dim and misty, save the face upon his canvas, and -that stood out with its scornful, fierce anger, though, through it all, -so wonderful had been the inspiration beneath whose influence he had -worked, there was an intense look of passionate love and forgiveness; -the eyes, while scornfully condemning and upbraiding, seemed to say, "I -love you still, for you are and always will be mine." - -"Cornel!" he groaned. "Heaven help me! and I have fought so hard. Ah!" -he cried, with a sigh of relief, for there were hurried footsteps on the -stairs, and the fancied dimness of the studio seemed to pass away as -little, meagre Keren-Happuch gave one sharp tap on the door, and then -ran in, to stop short, looking wonderingly at the artist's ghastly, -troubled face. - -"Oh, Mr. Dale, sir, you do work too hard," she cried reproachfully. -Then, in an eager whisper, "It's all right, sir. The model's come. I -told her she was too late for to-day, but she said she'd see you all the -same." - -"Where is she?" said Armstrong, in a voice which startled him. - -"In the 'all, sir. I made her wait while I come to know if you'd see -her. She's got on a thick wail, but sech a figger, sir. She'll do." - -"Send her up," said Dale, "but tell her I cannot be trifled with like -this." - -"Yes, sir. I'll tell her you're in a horful rage 'cause she didn't come -this morning." - -Dale hardly heard the words, but turned away as the girl left the room, -to stand gazing at the face which had so magically sprung from the end -of his brush; and he still stood gazing dreamily at the canvas when the -door was once more opened, there was the rustling of a dress, and -Keren-Happuch's voice was heard, saying snappishly-- - -"There's Mr. Dale." - -Then the door was shut, and muttering, "Stuck-up, orty minx," the girl -went down to her own region. - -Dale did not stir, but still stood gazing at the canvas, fascinated by -his work. But his lips moved, and he spoke half-angrily, but in a weary -voice. - -"I had given you up, Miss Montesquieu. I want you for this figure, but -if you cannot keep faith with me--yes," he said, as his visitor stepped -toward him, drawing off her veil--"for this." - -He turned sharply then, as if influenced in some unaccountable way, and -started back in horror and despair. - -"Valentina!" - -"Armstrong!" came in a low, passionate moan, as she flung herself upon -his breast--"at last, at last!" - -The palette and brushes dropped from his hands--he was but man--and she -uttered a low sigh of content as his arms closed round her soft yielding -form, and his lips joined hers in a long, passionate, clinging kiss. - -Then reason mastered once more, and he thrust her from him. - -"No, no," he gasped; "for God's sake, go! Why have you come?" - -"A cold welcome," she said, smiling. "I come to beg that you will grant -his prayer." - -"I do not understand you." - -"My husband wrote begging you to reconsider your determination, and come -to finish my portrait." - -"Impossible! He did not write." - -She pointed to the unopened letter lying upon a table, with the florid -crest plainly showing. - -"I had not opened it," he said. "I thought--" - -"That it was from me. How cruel men can be! He asks you to come back." - -"At your persuasion?" cried Dale fiercely. - -"Yes, at my persuasion, and you will come. You must--you shall." She -clung closer to him. "Armstrong," she whispered, "I cannot live without -you. You have drawn me to you; I could bear it no longer;" and she held -to him once more in spite of his repellent hands. - -"It is madness--your husband--your--your title--your fair fame as a -woman." - -"Empty words to me now," she said in a low, thrilling whisper. "I could -not stay. You are my world--everything to me now." - -"Woman, I tell you again, this is madness--your husband?" - -"With Lady Grayson, I believe. What does it matter? I am here--with -you. Armstrong, am I to go on my knees to you? I will--you have -humbled me so. Why are you so cruel, when you love me too?" - -"I--love you--no!" - -She laughed softly as, in spite of his shrinking, her arms enfolded him -once more, and her words came in a low sweet murmur to his ear. - -"Yes; you love me--as wildly and passionately as I love you. I knew -it--I could feel it, though you would not answer my appeals. Look," she -whispered, "it is as I felt; you are always thinking of me. I am ever -in your thoughts. But am I as beautiful as that? Yes: to you. But -look from the picture to my eyes. They could not gaze so fiercely and -scornfully as that. Now, tell me that you do not love me, and I was not -in your thoughts." - -She pointed to the features, glowing--almost speaking, from the canvas-- -her faithful portrait, full of the angry majesty he had sought to -convey. - -Alas! poor Cornel. Not a lineament was hers. - -Armstrong groaned. - -"Heaven help me!" he muttered. "Is it fate?" - -His hands repulsed her no longer, and he stood holding her at arm's -length, gazing into the eyes which fascinated, lost to everything but -her influence over him, till with a hasty gesture, full of anger, she -shrank away and sought her veil from the floor. - -"Some one!" she whispered fiercely, for there was a step upon the stair. - -"The Conte," cried Dale, startled at the interruption. - -"Hide me, quick! That room," cried the Contessa; and she took a step -toward it as she veiled her face. "No," she cried, turning proudly, and -resisting an inclination to step behind the great canvas close to which -she stood, "Let him see me. His faithlessness has divorced us, and -given me to the man I love. You will protect me. Kill him if you wish. -I am not afraid." - -This in a hasty whisper as the steps came nearer, and Valentina's eyes -glistened through her veil as she saw the artist draw himself up, and -take a step forward to meet the intruder. - -"Better that it should be so at once," she whispered. "Let him come." - -The door was thrown quickly open as she spoke. - -CHAPTER TEN. - -THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY. - -Armstrong's teeth and hands were clenched for the encounter with the -angry husband who had tracked his wife to the studio, and he was ready -to accept his fate, for he told himself that he could fight no more -against his destiny. The woman had told him that he would defend her, -and he must--he would. - -There was no feeling of dread, then, in his breast as he advanced to the -encounter, but only to stop speechless with amazement as Pacey entered -in his abrupt, noisy manner, to grasp his hand and clap him on the -shoulder. - -"Armstrong, old man," he cried loudly, "I could not stand it any longer. -You and I must be friends. I believe you told me the truth, lad, I do -from my soul. La Bella Donna told me Miss Montesquieu was here, but I -thought that wouldn't matter, as she wouldn't be sitting at this time." - -Dale could not speak: he was paralysed. - -"Don't hold off, old lad," said Pacey, in a low tone. "We must make it -up. Any apology when she's gone." - -He turned sharply to where the Contessa stood, closely veiled, and -nodded to her familiarly. - -"Glad you and Mr. Dale have come to terms. Many engagements on the -way?" - -There was no reply, but the tall proud figure seemed to stiffen, and -there was a flash of the eyes through the veil at Armstrong, who now -recovered his voice, while his heart sank low within him. - -"Go now," he said, "at once." - -"Oh, Montesquieu won't mind my being here. But do you really--" - -Pacey stopped speaking, as he realised for the first time that it was -not the model he had heard was sitting to his friend. He stared at her -hard, as if puzzled, then at the canvas, where the beautiful sketch -gazed at him fiercely, and he grasped in his own mind the situation. - -The paint was wet and glistening: this was the model who had been -sitting for the face, and it could be none other than the Contessa. - -A change came over him on the instant. His brows knit, the free, noisy -manner was gone, and he took off his hat, to say with quiet dignity, as -he bent his head, but in a voice husky with the pain he felt-- - -"I beg Lady Dellatoria's pardon for my rudeness. I was mistaken," and -he turned to go. - -"Stay, sir," she cried, in her low, deep, and musical tones; "my visit -to your friend is over. Mr. Dale, will you see me to my carriage? It -is waiting." - -Valentina held out her hand, and, pale now with emotion, Armstrong -advanced to the door, which he opened, and then offered his arm. This -she took, and he led her down to the hall in silence. - -"Your imprudence has ruined you," he said then, bitterly, "and disgraced -me in the eyes of my friend." - -"No," she said softly. "You can trust that man. He would die sooner -than injure a woman because she loves. Now I am at rest. You will come -to me, for I have won. You see," she continued, as Armstrong -mechanically opened the door, and she stepped out proudly on to the -steps, "I have no fear. Let the world talk as it will." - -A handsomely appointed carriage drew up, and the footman sprang down to -open the door, while Dale, who moved as if he were in a dream, handed -her in, she touching his arm lightly, and sinking back upon the -cushions. - -"I shall expect you to-morrow then, Mr. Dale," she said aloud, "at the -usual time." Then to the servant, "Home." - -Armstrong stood at the edge of the pavement, bareheaded, till the -carriage turned the corner out of the square; and then, still as if in a -dream, he walked in, closed the door, and ascended to the studio to face -his friend. - -Pacey was standing with his hands behind him, gazing at the face upon -the canvas. He did not stir when Dale took a couple of steps forward -into the great, gloomy, darkening room, waiting for an angry outburst of -reproaches. - -A full minute must have elapsed before a single word was uttered, and -then Pacey said slowly, and in the voice of one deeply moved-- - -"Is she as beautiful as this?" - -Dale started, and looked wonderingly at his friend. - -"I say, is she as beautiful as this?" repeated Pacey, still without -turning his head. - -"Yes: I have hardly done her justice." - -"A woman to win empires--to bring the world to her feet," said Pacey -slowly. "`Beautiful as an angel' is a blunder, lad. Such as she cannot -be of Heaven's mould, but sent to drag men down to perdition. -Armstrong, lad, I pity you. I suppose there are men who would come -scathless through such a trial as this, but they must be few." - -There was another long pause, and Pacey still gazed at the luminous face -upon the canvas. - -"Is that all you have to say?" said Dale at last. - -"Yes, that is all, man. How can I attack you now? I knew that you had -been tempted, and, in spite of appearances, I believed your word. I -thought you had not fallen, and that I had been too hasty in all I said. -Now I can only say once more, I pity you, and feel that I must -forgive." - -Dale drew a deep breath, which came sighing through his teeth as if he -were in pain. - -"Let's talk Art now, boy," said Pacey, taking out his pipe, and, going -to the tall mantelpiece, he took down the tobacco-jar, filled the bowl, -lit up, and began to smoke with feverish haste, as he threw one leg over -a chair, resting his hands upon the back, and gazing frowningly at the -face, while Dale stood near him with folded arms. - -"From the earliest days men gained their inspiration in painting and -sculpture from that which moved them to the core," said Pacey, slowly -and didactically. "Yes, I believe in inspiration, lad. We can go on -working, and studying, and painting, as you Yankees say, `our level -best', but something more is needed to produce a face like that." - -He was silent again, and sat as if fascinated by the work before him. - -"What am I to say to you, lad?" he continued at last. "It is like -sacrificing everything--honour, manhood, all a man should hold dear, to -his art; but as a brother artist, what am I to say? I am dumb as a man, -for I have seen her here and felt her presence. There was no need for -me to look upon her face. It is beautiful indeed. I say that as the -man. As the artist who has done so little for myself--" - -"So much for others," said Dale quickly. - -"Well, you fellows all believe in me and the hints I give, and some of -you have made your mark pretty deep. Yes, as the man who has studied -art these five and twenty years, I say this is wonderful. It did not -take you long?" - -"No." - -"Of course not. There is life and passion in every touch. You must -finish that, my lad, and we will keep it quiet. No one must see that -but us till you send it in. Armstrong, boy, you are one of the great -ones of earth. I knew that you had a deal in you, but this is all a -master's touch." - -"You think it is so good, then?" said Dale sadly. "Think it good? You -know how good it is. Better, perhaps, than you will ever paint again; -but would to God, my lad, that you had not sunk so low to rise so high." - -Dale sank into a chair, and let his face fall forward upon his hands, -while Pacey went on slowly, still gazing at the canvas. - -"Yes," he said, "it wanted that. All the rest is excellent. That bit -of imitation of Turner comes out well. The man wants more feeling in -the face--a little more of the unmasked--but this dwarfs all the rest, -as it should. Armstrong, lad, it is the picture of the year. There," -he continued, "my pipe's out, and I think I'll go. But be careful, lad. -Don't touch that face more than you can help, and only when she is -here." - -Dale laughed bitterly. - -"Why do you laugh? Is it such bad advice?" - -"Yes." - -And he partly told his friend how the work was done--leaving out all -allusion to Cornel--Pacey hearing him quietly to the end. - -"I am not surprised," he said at last. "What you say only endorses my -ideas. Good-bye, lad; I'll go." - -He rose from the chair, tapped the ashes out of his pipe, looking at -them thoughtfully, and picked up his hat from where he had cast it upon -the dusty floor. He then turned to face Dale, holding out his hand, but -the artist did not see it, and sat buried in thought. - -"Good-bye, old lad," said Pacey again. - -Dale sprang to his feet, saw the outstretched hand, and drew back, -shaking his head. - -"Shake hands," said Pacey again, more loudly. - -"No," said Dale bitterly; "you cannot think of me as of old." - -"No; but more warmly perhaps, for there is pity mingled with the old -friendship that I felt. I came here this afternoon, as schoolboys say, -to make it up. I was in ignorance then; now I have eaten of the bitter -fruit and know. Armstrong, lad, knowing all this, and as one who, with -all his reckless Bohemianism and worldliness, has kept up one little -habit taught by her long dead, how can I say `forgive me my trespasses' -to-night if, with such a temptation as yours, I can't forgive?" - -Dale gazed at him wildly, and Pacey went on. - -"The bond between us two is stronger now, lad, so strong that I think it -would take death to snap the cord. Good-bye. If you do not see me -soon, it is not that we are no longer friends." - -Then their hands joined in a firm grip, and Pacey slowly left the room, -muttering to himself as he passed out into the square-- - -"Fallen so low, to rise so high. Yes, I must save him, and there is -only one way in which it can be done." - -CHAPTER ELEVEN. - -JAGGS MAKES A DISCOVERY. - -Letter after letter, which had remained unanswered. - -"Their scent sickens me," Dale cried passionately, as he committed them -to the flames unread, for he frankly owned to himself that he dare not -read one, lest he should falter in the resolution he had made. - -For he had struggled hard to fight against his fate, and though tied and -tangled by the threads which still clung to him, he had mockingly told -himself that he was not mad enough to venture into the spider's web -again. - -Then, twice over, he had hastily drawn a curtain in front of his great -picture upon Keren-Happuch coming up to the studio to bring in a card-- -the Conte's--and bit his lip with rage and mortification as that -gentleman was shown up, in company with Lady Grayson. - -The visit on the first occasion was to complain about Dale's curt -refusal to go on with the picture; while the young artist haltingly gave -as his reason that it was impossible for him to complete Lady -Dellatoria's portrait on account of a large work that he was compelled -to finish. And all the while Lady Grayson, with the reckless effrontery -of her nature, looked at him mockingly, her eyes laughingly telling him -that he was a poor weak coward, and that she could read him through and -through. - -Then came the second visit with the wretched Italian, blindly, or -knowingly, to use him as a screen for his own amours, almost imploring -him to come. - -"Lady Dellatoria is so disappointed," he said volubly. "She takes the -matter quite to heart. No doubt, Mr. Dale, there is a little vanity in -the matter--the desire to be seen in the exhibition, painted by the -famous young American artist." - -"There are plenty of men, sir, who would gladly undertake the -commission," said Dale angrily. "I beg that you will not ask me again." - -"Mr. Dale, you are cruel," cried Lady Grayson. "Our poor Contessa will -be desolate. Let me plead for you to come and finish the work." - -"Aha! yes," cried the Conte, wrinkling up his face, though it was full -enough before of premature lines. "A lady pleads. You cannot refuse -her." - -Dale gave the woman a look so full of contempt and disgust that she -coloured and then turned away, shrugging her shoulders. - -"He is immovable," she said to the Conte. - -"No, no! Body of Bacchus! I understand;" and he placed his finger to -his lips, and half closing his eyes, signed to Dale to step aside with -him. "Mr. Dale," he whispered, "Lady Dellatoria has set her mind upon -this, and I see now: a much more highly paid commission that you wish to -do for some one. That shall not stand in the way. Come, I double the -amount for which we--what do you name it? Ah, yes--bargained." - -Dale turned upon him fiercely. - -"No, sir!" he cried; "it is not a question of money. No sum would -induce me to finish that portrait." - -"Ah, well: we shall see," said the Conte. "Do not be angry, my young -friend. Lady Dellatoria will be eaten by chagrin. But we will discuss -the matter no more to-day. Good morning." - -He held out his hand to Lady Grayson, but she did not take it. She -moved toward Dale, and held out her gloved fingers. - -"Good morning, Mr. Dale," she said merrily. "You great men in oil are -less approachable than a Prime Minister." Then in a low tone: "It is -not true, all this show of opposition. I am not blind." - -She turned and gave her hand to the Conte, and they left the studio, -Armstrong making no effort to show them out, but standing motionless -till he heard the door close, when, with a gesture of contempt and -disgust, he threw open the windows and lit his pipe. - -A minute later he had thrown the pipe aside and taken out Cornel's -letter to read; but the words swam before his eyes, and he could only -see the face hidden behind that curtain. - -"Poor little talisman!" he said, sadly apostrophising the letter, "you -have lost your power. Evil is stronger than good, after all." - -"Good-bye, little one," he continued, "for ever. You would forgive me -if you knew all, for I am drifting--drifting, and my strength has gone." - -Two days passed--a week, and hour by hour he had waited, fully expecting -that Valentina would come. He shrank from the meeting, but felt that it -must be, for her influence seemed to be over him sleeping or waking, her -eyes always gazing into his. - -But she did not come. Only another note, and this he read in its -brevity, for it contained but these words-- - -"You will drive me to my death." - -"Or me to mine," he muttered, as he burned the letter; and then, in a -raging desire to crush down the thoughts which troubled him, he turned -to his work. - -"Never!" he cried fiercely. "I will not go. If she comes here--well, -if she does. That mockery of a man will track her some day, and then, -in spite of English law, there will be a meeting, and he will kill me. -I hope so. Then there would be rest." - -The picture which he had now stubbornly set himself to finish, as if he -were urged by some unseen power, progressed but slowly. "The Emperor" -came to sit, and tried to mould his features into the desired aspect -with more or less success; but, in spite of inquiries, and interview -after interview with different models recommended by brother artists as -suitable to stand for the figure, Dale's taste was too fastidious to be -satisfied, and Juno's face alone looked scornfully from the canvas. - -Pacey had been again and again, but only in a friendly way, to chat as -of old, sometimes bringing with him Leronde to gossip and fence with, at -other times alone. No reference was made to the picture or the past. - -"I shall never finish it," said Dale, as he sat alone one day gazing at -his canvas. "What shall I do--go abroad? Joe would come with me, and -all this horrible dream might slowly die away." - -"No," he muttered, after a pause; "it would not die. Better seek the -true forgetfulness. Do all men at some time in their lives suffer from -such a madness as mine?" - -His musings were interrupted by a step upon the stairs, and he hastily -drew the curtain before hi? canvas. - -A single rap, which sounded as if it had been given with the knob of a -walking-stick, came upon the door panel, and directly afterwards, in -answer to a loud "Come in," Jaggs entered with the knocker in his hand, -to wit, a silk umbrella--one of those ingenious affairs formed by sewing -all the folds where they have been slit up by wear and tear, and -declared by the kerb vendor as being better than new--a fact as regards -the price. - -"Ah, Jaggs, good morning," said Dale. "But I don't want you. I shall -let your face go as it is." - -"Quite right, sir," said the man, glancing at the curtain. "Couldn't be -better; but I didn't come about that." - -"Oh, I see," said Dale sarcastically. "Your banker gone on the -Continent?" - -"The Emperor" drew himself up, and looked majestic in the face and pose -of the head, shambling as to his legs, and extremely deferential in the -curve of his body and the position of his hands and arms. - -"Mr. Dale," he said, "I don't deny, sir, as there 'ave been times when a -half-crown has been a little heaven, and a double florin a delight, but -I was not agoing to ask assistance now, though I am still a strugglin' -man, and been accustomed to better things. It was not to ask help, sir, -as I'd come, but to bestow it, if so be as you'd condescend to accept it -of your humble servant, as always feels a pride in your success, not to -hide the fack that it does me good, sir, to be seen upon the line." - -"Well, what do you mean?" said Dale gruffly. - -"I want to see that picture done, sir. It'll make our fortune, sir. -I'm sure on it, and I say it with pride, there isn't anything as'll -touch it for a mile round." - -"Thank you, Jaggs; you are very complimentary," said Dale ironically, -but the tone was not observed. - -"It's on'y justice, sir, and I ain't set going on for twenty years for -artists without knowing a good picture when I see one. But that ain't -business, sir. You want a model, sir, and that Miss Montesquieu, as she -calls herself, won't be here for a month or two, and you needn't expect -her. Did you try her as Mr. Pacey calls the Honourable Miss Brill?" - -"Pish! I don't want to paint a fishwife, man." - -"No, sir, you don't; and of course Miss Varsey Vavasour wouldn't do?" - -"No, no, no! there is not one of them I'd care to have, Jaggs. If I go -on with the figure, I shall work from some cast at first, and finish -afterward from a model." - -"No, sir, don't, pr'y don't," cried Jaggs. "You'll only myke it stiff -and hard. It wouldn't be worthy on you, Mr. Dale, sir; and besides, -there ain't no need. You're a lion, sir, a reg'lar lion 'mong artisses, -sir, and you was caught in a net, sir, and couldn't get free, and all -the time, sir, there was a little mouse a nibblin' and a nibblin' to get -you out, sir, though you didn't know it, sir, and that mouse's nyme was -Jaggs." - -"What! You don't mean to say you know of a suitable model?" - -"But I just do, sir. That's what I do say, sir." - -"No, no," cried Armstrong peevishly. "I don't want to be worried into -seeing one of your friends, Jaggs. Your taste and mine are too -different for a lady of your choice to suit my work." - -"Don't s'y that, sir," cried Jaggs, in an aggrieved tone of voice. "I'm -on'y a common sort o' man, I own, sir, but I do know a good model when I -see one--I mean one as shows breed. I don't mean one o' your pretty -East End girls, with the bad stock showing through, but one as has got -good furren breed in her." - -"Is this a foreign woman, then?" - -"That's it, sir. Comes from that place last where they ketch the little -fishes as they sends over here for breakfast--not bloaters, sir, them -furren ones." - -"Anchovies?" - -"No, sir, t'other ones in tins." - -"Sardines?" - -"That's it, sir: comes from Sardineyer last, but her father was a Human. -Sort o' patriot kind o' chap as got into trouble for trying to free his -country. Them furren chaps is always up to their games, sir, like that -theer Mr. Lerondy, and then their country's so grateful that they has to -come over here to save themselves from being shot." - -"But the woman?" - -"Oh, she come along with her father, sir, and he's been trying to give -Hightalian lessons, and don't get on 'cause they say he don't talk pure, -and he's too proud to go out as a waiter and earn a honest living, so -the gal's begun going out to sit. But she don't get on nayther, 'cause -her figure's too high." - -"What! a great giraffe of a woman?" - -"Lor' bless you, no, sir! 'bout five feet two half. I should say. I -meant charges stiff; won't go out for less nor arf crown a hour, and -them as tried her don't like her 'cause she's so stuck-up." - -"Look here, Jaggs; is she a finely formed, handsome woman?" - -"Well, Mr. Dale, sir, I won't deceive you, for from what I hear her face -ain't up to much; but she don't make a pynte o' faces, and I'm told as -she's real good for anything, from a Greek statoo to a hangel." - -"Well, I'll see her. Where does she live?" - -"Leather Lane way, sir." - -"Address?" - -"Ah, that I don't know, sir. I b'leeve it's her father as does the -business and takes the money." - -"He is her father?" - -"Oh yes, sir, it's all square. I'm told they're very 'spectable people. -Old man's quite the seedy furren gent, and the gal orful stand-offish." - -"Tell him to come and bring his daughter. If I don't like her, I'll pay -for one sitting and she can go--" - -"Eight, sir; and speaking 'onest, sir, I do hope as she will turn out -all right." - -"Thank you. There's a crown for your trouble." - -"Raly, sir, that ain't nessary," said "The Emperor," holding out his -hand.--"Oh, well, sir, if you will be so gen'rous, why, 'tain't for me -to stop you.--Good mornin', sir, good mornin'." - -CHAPTER TWELVE. - -THE NEW MODEL. - -Two days passed, and Dale was standing, brush in hand, before his -canvas, thinking. He had made up his mind to trust to his imagination -to a great extent for the finishing of Juno's figure: this, with the -many classic sketches he had made in Greece and Rome, would, he -believed, enable him to be pretty well independent. He was in better -spirits, for he had heard nothing from Portland Place, and flattered -himself that the impression which had troubled him was growing fainter. - -"Come in," he cried, as there was a tap at the door, and Keren-Happuch -appeared, evidently fresh from a study in black-lead, and holding a card -between a finger and thumb, guarded by her apron. - -"Here's a model, sir, and she give me this." - -Dale took a very dirty card, which looked as if it had been for some -time in an old waistcoat pocket. Printed thereon were the words--"Dú -Jaggs. Head and face. Roman fathers, etc," and written on the back in -pencil, in Jaggs' cramped hand-- - -"Signora Azatchy Figgers." - -"Where is she, Miranda?" - -"On the front door mat, sir. And please, Mr. Dale, sir, mayn't I bring -you some beef-tea?" - -"No, thank you, Miranda. Bring up the visitor instead." - -"Oh, dear! he do worry me," muttered Keren-Happuch. "I do hope he ain't -going into a decline." - -Dale smiled at the dirty card, and waited for the entrance of the new -model, who was shown in directly by the grimy maid, and immediately, in -a quick, jerky, excited way, looked sharply round the room before -turning her face to the artist as the girl closed the door. - -On his side he gazed with cold indifference at his visitor, who, after -taking a couple of steps forward, stopped short, and he saw that she was -rather tall, wore a closely fitting bonnet, over which a thick dark -Shetland wool veil was drawn, and was draped from head to foot in a long -black cloak, which had evidently seen a good deal of service. - -"Signora Azacci?" said Dale, glancing at the card again, and making a -good shot at her name. - -It was evidently correct, for the woman said, in a husky voice, as if -suffering from intense nervousness-- - -"Si, si." - -"You are willing to stand for me--for this picture?" said Dale, scanning -her closely, but learning nothing respecting her figure on account of -the cloak; and he spoke very coldly, for the woman's actions on entering -struck him as being angular and awkward; now they were jerky, as she -raised her hands to her temples. - -"No Inglese, signore," she said then, excitedly; and again, after an -embarrassed pause, "Parlate Italiano?--No?" - -"No," said Dale, shaking his head. - -Her hands again came from beneath her cloak in a despairing gesture. -Then, placing one to her forehead, she looked round at the lumber of -paintings and properties, as if seeking for a way to express herself, -till her eyes lit upon the great uncovered canvas. Bending forward in a -quick, alert way, she uttered a low, peculiar cry, and almost ran to it, -leaned forward again, as if examining, and then, with extreme rapidity, -pointed to the blank place in the picture where Lady Dellatoria's face -stood out weirdly. She then took a few quick steps aside from where -Dale stood, frowning and annoyed at what seemed to be a hopeless waste -of time. Then, with a rapid movement, she unclasped the cloak, swept it -from her shoulders, and holding it only with her left hand, let it fall -in many folds to the floor, while as she stood before him now in a -plainly made, tightly fitting black cloth princess dress, she -instinctively fell into almost the very attitude Dale had in his mind's -eye, and he saw at once that her figure must be all that he wished. - -"Bravo!" he cried involuntarily, and with an artist's pleasure in an -intelligence that grasps his ideas. - -At the word "Bravo!" the woman turned her head quickly. - -"Excellent," he continued; "that promises well." - -Her face was hidden, but as she shrugged up her shoulders nearly to her -ears, and raised her hands with the fingers contracted and toward him, -he felt that she must be wrinkling up her forehead and making a grimace -expressive of her vexation. - -"Yes, it is tiresome," he said; "but we don't want to talk. I dare say -I can make you understand. But I've forgotten every word I picked up in -Rome." - -"Ah!" cried the woman, with quick pantomimic action, as she changed her -attitude again, and leant toward him--"Roma--Roma?" - -"Si, si." - -"My lord has been in Rome?" she cried in Italian. - -"I think I understand that," muttered Dale, "and if your form proves to -be equal to your quick intelligence, my picture will be painted. Now -then, signora, this is a language I dare say you can understand. Here -are two half-crowns. For two hours--`due ore.'" - -"Si, si," she cried eagerly, and she almost snatched the coins and held -them to her veiled lips. - -"Silver keys to your understanding, madam," he muttered, taking a -mahlstick from where it stood against a chair. "Humph! I begin to be -hopeful. Yes, more than hopeful," he continued, as the model was -rapidly drawing off her shabby, carefully mended gloves, before taking a -little common portemonnaie from her pocket and dropping the coins in one -by one. Then aloud, as he pointed with the mahlstick, "La bella mano." - -"Aha!" she cried quickly. But she gave her shoulders another shrug, and -shook the purse, saying sadly--"Pel povero padre." - -"`Padre.' For her father," muttered Dale. "Not so sordid as I thought, -poor thing. Will you remove your veil?" - -She leaned toward him. - -"I said, Will you remove your veil?--Hang it, what is veil in Italian? -`Velum' in Latin." - -She was evidently trying hard to grasp his meaning, and at the Latin -"velum" she clapped her beautifully formed hands to her veil. - -"No, no!" she cried haughtily; and then volubly, in Italian--"I am -compelled to do this for bread. I do not know you, neither need you -know me. My face is not beautiful, and we are strangers. You wish to -paint my figure. I will retain my veil." - -"I do not understand you, signora, and yet I have a glimmering of what -you wish to express," said Dale, as gravely as if his visitor could -grasp every word. "There, you seem to be a lady, and--hang it all, this -is very absurd, my preaching to you, and you to me. I wish Pacey were -here. He speaks Italian like a native. No, poor lass, I suppose they -must be starving nearly, or she would not stoop to this. I don't wish -Joe Pacey were here." - -Then quietly bowing as if acceding to her wishes, he made a sign to his -visitor to take her attention, and as she watched him from behind her -thick veil, he walked to the entrance and turned the key. - -Crossing the studio to the farther door, he threw it open, and then drew -forward from the end of the great room a large folding-screen, which he -placed at the back of the dais and opened wide. - -"There, signora," he said, "I am at your service;" and he pointed to the -inner room, turned from her, and walked to the canvas. - -The model stood motionless for a moment or two, and then caught up the -great cloak from where it lay upon the floor. - -"Grazie, Signore," she said then, with quiet dignity, and she was -hurrying across to the inner room, but he arrested her. - -"One moment," he said, with grave respect, and the chivalrous manner of -a true gentleman toward one whose tones seemed to suggest that she -trusted him. "Let us arrange the pose first. Look at the picture: -study it well. You see the subject." - -Dale continued speaking, but kept on pointing to the scene he had -depicted, and, to his intense gratification, she threw the cloak across -a chair back, gazed intently at the picture for a few moments, letting -her eyes rest longest upon the beautiful, scornful face, and then went -quickly to the dais, stepped up, turned, and with rare intelligence fell -once more into the very position he desired, bettering in fact that -which she had sketched at first. - -"Eccellentissimo!" he cried; and then she stepped down quickly, and -glided into the inner room, while Dale gazed at his painting with a -feeling of triumph sweeping away the morbid thoughts which had troubled -him so long. - -"Art is my mistress after all," he said to himself, as he glanced upward -to see that the skylight was properly blinded, and then, going to a box, -rapidly prepared his palette, armed himself with a sheaf of brushes, and -altered the position of his easel a little. - -He was hardly ready when he heard the slight rattle of the handle, a -faint rustling sound, and the swinging of the door again. - -But he did not turn as a light step passed behind him, and a faint -creaking sound announced that the model had mounted upon the dais. - -He raised his eyes, and she was standing there apparently as he had seen -her first, closely veiled, and still draped in the long, heavy, black -cloak. - -Then, with a quick movement, the long garment was thrown aside, and the -model stood before him in the very attitude, and the perfection of her -womanly beauty--a beauty made hideous in the ghastly effect produced by -the black face and head swathed in the thick veil. - -But this passed unnoticed by the artist, who, with a triumphant -ejaculation, began to sketch rapidly, as he muttered to himself without -vanity-- - -"Pacey is right: my canvas must be a success." - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN. - -A STRANGE SITTING. - -"Yes," said Dale to himself again, "Art is my mistress. I have betrayed -one, fought clear of the web of another, and now I am free to keep true -to the only one I love." - -And all through that visit of the Italian, he worked on with a strange -eagerness, till, at what seemed to be the end of an hour at most, his -model made a sudden movement. - -"I beg your pardon," he said, "I ought to have told you to rest more -often. Stanca?" For he recalled a word meaning fatigued or wearied. - -"Si--si," she said quickly, and pointed to the clock on the mantelpiece, -when, to Dale's astonishment, he saw that the two hours had elapsed, and -that his model had quickly resumed her cloak. Then, without a word, she -crossed to the door of the inner room, and about a quarter of an hour -later emerged, to find him standing back studying his morning's work. - -"Grazie," he cried, and then pointed to the roughly sketched in figure. -"Bravo!" he added, smiling. - -She bent her head in a quiet, dignified manner, and raking up another -Italian word or two, Armstrong said-- - -"A rivederia--au revoir." - -"Ah, monsieur speaks French!" she cried in that tongue, but with a very -peculiar accent. - -"Yes, badly," he replied, also in French. "That is good; now we can get -on better. Can you come to-morrow at the same time?" - -"I am at monsieur's service." - -"Then I shall expect you. Thank you for your patient attention. -Another time, pray rest when you are fatigued." - -She bowed in a stately manner, and pointed to the door which he had -locked, and as soon as it was unfastened, passed out without turning her -head. - -Dale stood working at his sketch for another hour, and then turned it to -the wall, to light his pipe and begin thinking about his model now that -he had ceased work. - -It was quite mysterious her insisting upon keeping her face covered. -Why was it? Had she some terrible disfigurement, or was it from -modesty? Possibly. Her manner was perfect. She was evidently -miserably poor, and seemed eager to gain money to support her father--he -had quite grasped that--and the poor creature being compelled to stoop -to this way of earning a livelihood, she naturally desired to remain -incognito. Well, it was creditable, he thought; but the first idea came -back. She was evidently a woman gifted by nature with an exquisite -form, and at the same time, by accident or disease, her countenance was -so marked that she was afraid of her clients being repelled, and -declining to engage her. - -"Ah, well, signora, the mysterious Italienne, I will respect your desire -to remain incog. It is nothing to me," said Dale, half aloud, as he -sent a cloud of blue vapour upward. "I may congratulate myself, though, -on my good fortune in finding such a model." - -He sat back in his chair, dwelling upon the figure, and then went twice -over to his canvas, to compare his work with the figure in his -imagination, and returned to his seat more than satisfied. - -Then he put work aside, and began thinking of home, and the sweet sad -face he could always picture, with its eyes gazing reproachfully at him. - -"Yes," he said, with a sigh; "poor darling! It was fate. I was not -worthy of her. When the misery and disappointment have died away-- -Heaven bless her!--she will love and be the wife of a better man, -unless--unless some day she forgives me--some day when I have told her -all." - -The next morning he was all in readiness and expectant. The light was -good for painting, and his mind was more at rest, for there was no -letter from the Contessa. But for a few moments he was angry with -himself on finding that he felt a kind of pique at the readiness with -which she had given up writing her reproaches. But that passed off, and -as the time was near for the coming of the model, he drew the easel -forward to see whether, after the night's rest, he felt as satisfied -with his work as he did the previous day. But he hardly glanced at the -figure, for the eyes were gazing at him in a terribly life-like way, -full of scorn and reproach; and as he met them, literally fascinated by -the work to which his imagination lent so much reality, he shuddered and -asked himself whether he had after all been able to free himself from -the glamour--dragged himself loose from the spell of the Circe who had -so suddenly altered the even course of his life. - -He was still contemplating the face, and wondering whether others would -look upon it with the fascination it exercised upon him, when -Keren-Happuch came up to announce the arrival of his model, who entered -directly after, to look at him sharply through her thick veil. - -He uttered a low sigh full of satisfaction, for her coming was most -welcome. It would force his attention to his work. - -"Good morning," he said gravely and distinctly, in French. "You are -very punctual." - -She bowed distantly, and then her attention seemed to be caught by the -face upon the canvas, and she drew near to stand gazing at it -attentively. - -She turned to him sharply. "The lady who sat for that: why did she not -stay for you to finish the portrait?" - -Dale started, half wondering, half annoyed by his model's imperious -manner. - -"It is great!" she said. Then in a quick, eager tone: "The lady you -love?" - -He was so startled by the suddenness of the question, that he replied as -quickly-- - -"No, no. It is not from a model. It is imagination." - -"Ah!" she said, and she looked at the picture more closely. "You -thought of her and painted. You are very able, monsieur, but I like it -not. It makes me to shiver, I know not why. It makes me afraid to -look." - -"Then don't look," said Dale, in an annoyed tone. "You will cover it, -please, monsieur. The face is so angry; it gives me dread." - -"Pish!" ejaculated Dale. "Very well, though. Get ready, please. I -want to do a long morning's work." - -"Monsieur will pay me," she said, holding out her hand in its -well-mended glove. - -He took out a couple of half-crowns, which she almost snatched, and -then, without a word, pointed to the door almost imperiously. - -He nodded shortly, and went to fasten it, while she glided into the -inner room, and in a wonderfully short space of time returned ready, -took her place upon the dais, dropped the cloak, and he began to paint. - -"Monsieur has not covered the dreadful head," she said hoarsely. - -Without a word he took a square of brown paper, gummed it, and covered -the face; then in perfect silence he went on painting, deeply interested -in his work as his sketch took softer form and grew rapidly beneath his -brush. - -But the work did not progress so fast as on the previous day: he was -painting well, but the black head, so incongruous and weird of aspect, -posed upon the beautiful female form he was transferring to canvas, -irritated him, and as he looked at his model from time to time, he could -see that a pair of piercing eyes were watching him. - -Half-an-hour had passed, when there was a low, weary sigh. - -"We will rest a little," he said quietly, and pointing to a chair and -the screen, he devoted himself to an unimportant part of the work for -some ten minutes, but to be brought back to his model by her words-- - -"I am waiting, monsieur." - -He started and resumed his work, remembering to pause for his patient -model to rest twice over, and then to continue, and grow so excited over -his efforts--painting so rapidly--that when he heard another weary sigh -he glanced at the clock, and found that he had kept his model quite a -quarter of an hour over her time. - -"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle," he said. "You must be very weary." - -"Yes, very weary," she said sadly, as she moved towards the door, -glancing over her right shoulder at the picture. "It is better now. I -can look at your work; the dreadful face makes me too much alarmed." - -"A strange sitting," he said. "Two veiled faces." There was a quick -look through the thick veil, but she walked on into the room, and in due -time passed him on her way, bowed distantly, and went out, leaving Dale -motionless by his canvas, gazing after her at the door, and conjuring up -in his mind the figure he had so lately had before him. - -He recovered himself with a start, and raised one hand to his forehead. - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN. - -LIFE'S FEVER. - -It was with a novel feeling of anxiety that Dale waited for the coming -of his model. A peculiar feverish desire to know more of her position -had come over him, and he made up his mind to question her about her -father and the cause of his exile. Jaggs had said that he had had to -flee for life and liberty, and if he questioned her about these she -would, foreigner-like, become communicative. - -It was nothing to him, of course. This woman--lady perhaps, for her -words bespoke refinement--would answer his purpose till the picture was -finished. She was paid for her services, and when she was no longer -required, there was an end of the visits to his studio. - -He told himself all this as he sat before his great canvas, working -patiently, filling up portions, and preparing for his model's coming. -And as he worked on, with the figure as strongly marked as the model, -the softly rounded contour of the graceful form began to glow in -imagination with life, and at last Dale sprang from his seat, threw down -palette and brushes, and shook his head as if to clear it from some -strange confusion of intellect. - -"How absurd!" he said aloud, and trying to turn the current of his -thoughts, they drifted back at once to his model, and he gazed at his -work, wondering which of his ideas was correct about her persistently -keeping her face covered. - -"She cannot be disfigured," he muttered. "It must be for reasons of her -own.--She is, as I thought, forced to undertake a task that must be -hateful to her.--I wonder whether her face is beautiful too?" - -"Bah! what is it to me?" he muttered angrily. "I do not want to paint -her face, and yet she must be very beautiful." - -He sat down again before his canvas, thoughtful and dreamy, picturing to -himself what her face might be, and the next minute he had seized a -drawing-board upon which grey paper was already stretched, picked up a -crayon, and with great rapidity sketched in memories of dark aquiline -faces that he had studied in Home and Paris, with one of later time--one -of the women of the Italian colony which lives by the patronage of -artists. - -These soon covered the paper, and he sat gazing at them, wondering which -would be suited to the figure he was painting. - -Then, throwing the board aside, he began to pace the studio impatiently. - -"What nonsense!" he muttered. "What craze is this! Her face is nothing -to me. I'm overwrought. Worry and work are having their effect. I -have had no exercise either lately. Yes: that's it: I'm overdone." - -He stood hesitating for a few moments, and then thrust his hand into his -pocket, and drew out five shillings. - -"I'll rout out Pacey and Leronde, and we'll go up the river for a row." - -He rang the bell and waited, giving one more glance at his picture, and -then turning it face to the wall, with the curtain drawn. - -He had hardly finished when Keren-Happuch's step was heard at the door, -and she knocked and entered. - -"You ring, please, sir?" - -"Yes. Take this money. No--no--stop a moment. She would be hurt," he -muttered, and, hastily wrapping it in a sheet of note-paper at the side -table, he thrust the packet into an envelope, fastened it down, and -directed it to La Signora Azacci. - -"There, Keren-Happuch," he said. - -"Don't call me that now, please, Mr. Dale, sir. I likes the other best, -'cause you don't do it to tease me, like Mr. Pacey." - -"Well then, Miranda, my little child of toil," he said merrily, "I have -wrapped up this money because the young lady might not like it given to -her loose. It isn't that I don't trust you." - -The girl laughed. - -"Zif I didn't know that, sir. Why, you give me a fi' pun' note to get -changed once." - -"So I did, Miranda, and will again." - -"And sovrins lots o' times. I don't mind." - -"Give this to the Italian lady." - -"Is she a lady, sir? I think she is sometimes, and sometimes I don't, -'cause she's so shabby. Why, some o' them models as comes could buy her -up out and out." - -"Yes, Miranda; but don't be so loquacious." - -"No, sir, I won't," said Keren-Happuch, wondering the while what the -word meant. - -"Tell her that I'm not well this morning, and have gone into the country -for a day, but I hope to see her at the same time to-morrow morning." - -"There, I knowed you wasn't well, sir," cried the girl eagerly. - -"Pooh! only a little seedy." - -"But was she to come at the reg'lar time this morning, sir?" - -"Yes, of course." - -"Then she ain't comin', sir, for it's nearly an hour behind by the -kitchen clock." - -Dale glanced at his watch in astonishment, then at the clock on the -mantelpiece. - -Keren-Happuch was quite correct in every respect, for the model did not -come, and Dale felt so startled by this that he did not leave the studio -all day, but spent it with a growing feeling of trouble. - -That night, to get rid of the anxiety which kept his brain working, he -sought out his two friends and dined with them at one of the cafes, -eating little, drinking a good deal, and sitting at last smoking, morose -and silent, listening to Leronde's excited disquisitions on art, and -Pacey's bantering of the Frenchman, till it was time to return to his -studio, which he entered with a shudder, to cross to his room. - -Keren-Happuch had been up and lit the gas, leaving one jet burning with -a ghastly blue flame, and when this was turned up, the place seemed to -be full of shadows, out of which the various casts and busts looked at -him weirdly. - -"Phew! how hot and stuffy the place is," he muttered. "Am I going to be -ill--sickening for a fever? Bah! Rubbish! I drank too much of that -Chianti." - -The Italian name of the wine of which he had freely partaken suggested -the Conte, but only for a moment, and then he was brooding again over -the failure of the model to keep her appointment. - -"Surely she is not ill," he said excitedly; then, with an angry -gesticulation, "well, if she is, what is it to me? Poor woman! she will -get better, and I must wait." - -He hurried into his room, and turned up the gas there, but he could not -rest without going back into the studio and turning the gas on full -before dragging round the great easel, and throwing back the curtains to -unveil the picture, with its graceful white figure standing right out -from the group like sunlit ivory. But a shadow was cast upon the upper -part by a portion of the curtain whose rings had caught upon the rod, -and a strange shudder ran through him, for the paper he had used to hide -the face looked dark, and, to his excited vision, took the form of the -close black veil, through which a pair of brilliant eyes appeared to -flash. - -Snatching back the curtain, he wheeled the easel into its place, with -its face to the wall, turned down the gas after fastening the door, and -threw himself upon his bed to lie tossing hour after hour, never once -going right off to sleep, but thinking incessantly of the beautiful -model, and the masked face whose eyes burned into his brain. - -CHAPTER FIFTEEN. - -AFTER THE LAPSE. - -Dale's hands trembled, and there were feverish marks in his cheeks as he -dressed next morning, and then walked into his sitting-room and rang. - -The breakfast things were laid, and in a few minutes Keren-Happuch came -through the studio with his coffee and toast, while an hour later, -without daring to speak to him, she bore the almost untouched breakfast -away. - -As soon as he was alone, he made an effort to master himself, and walked -firmly into the studio, drew forward his easel, and after removing the -curtain, stood there to study his work and criticise and mark its -failings. - -He found none to mark, but stood there waiting for its living, breathing -model, knowing well enough that he must check the madness attacking -him--at once, in its incipient stage. - -"I'm as weak a fool as other men," he muttered. "Bah! I can easily -disillusionise myself. I'll insist upon her removing her veil to-day. -It is that and the foolish wish to see her face that has upset me, I -being in a weak, nervous state. Once I've finished and had the work -framed, I really will give up painting for a few weeks and rest." - -That maddening day passed, but no model came, and as soon as it was dark -he went out, but not until the last post had come in that was likely to -bring him a letter of excuse from his sitter. - -He went straight to the street where Jaggs lodged, to learn that he was -away from home. The people of the house thought that he had gone down -somewhere in the country to sit for an artist who was doing a -sea-picture, but they were not sure whether it was Surrey or Cornwall. - -Somewhere Leather Lane way, Jaggs had told him that the father lived. -Perhaps he was ill, and his child was nursing him. But how could he go -about asking at random in that neighbourhood about the missing model? - -But he did, seeking out first one and then another handsome picturesque -vagabond belonging to the artistic Italian colony, and questioning them, -but without avail. They had never heard the name. - -He tried a lodging-house or two, upon whose steps Italian women were -seated, dark-eyed, black-haired, and with showy glass bead necklaces -about their throats. But no; those who could understand him neither -knew the name, nor had they heard of a Sardinian patriot whose daughter -went out to sit. - -Dale returned to his rooms to pass another sleepless night, hoping that -the next morning would put an end to his anxiety, fever, or excitement, -whichever it was--for he savagely refrained from confessing to himself -that he grasped what his trouble might be. - -But the morning came, and seven more mornings, to find him seated before -his unfinished picture, practising a kind of self-deceit, and telling -himself that he was feverish, haggard, and mentally careworn on account -of his dread of not being able to finish his picture as satisfactorily -as he could wish. - -He had tried hard during the interval, but, in spite of all his efforts, -he had been able to get tidings of neither Jaggs nor the model the man -had introduced; while to make his state the more wretched, Pacey had not -been near him, and for some unaccountable reason Leronde, too, had -stayed away. - -He was seated, wild-eyed and despairing, one morning, when Keren-Happuch -came running in, breathless with her exertions to reach the studio, and -bear the news which she felt would be like life to the young artist. - -"Here she is, sir!" panted the girl, "she's come at last;" and then ran -down to open the front door. - -Dale staggered and turned giddy, but listened with eyes fixed upon the -door, hardly daring to believe till he saw it open, and the dark, -closely veiled figure enter quickly. - -Then there was a reaction, and he asked himself why he had suffered like -this. What was the poorly dressed woman who had just entered to him? - -His lips parted, but he did not speak, only waited. - -"Am I too late?" she said, in her strongly accented French. "Some -other? The picture finished?" - -"No," he said coldly; and he wondered at her collected manner as he -caught the glint of a pair of searching eyes. "I have waited for you. -Why have you been so long?" - -"I have been ill," she said simply, and her tones suggested suffering. - -"Ill?" he cried excitedly; and he took a step towards her with -outstretched hand. "I am very sorry." - -"Thank you," she said quietly, and ignoring the extended hand. "I am -once more well, and I must be quick. Shall I stay one more hour every -day and you pay me more? Oh, no. For the same!" - -"Yes, pray do," he said huskily, and he thrust his hand into his pocket -to pay her in advance according to his custom, but she ignored the money -as she had previously passed his hand without notice, and after pointing -to the door, she hurried through into his room, to return in a -wonderfully short space of time and take her place upon the dais. - -Dale began to paint eagerly, feverishly, so as to lose himself in his -work, but in a few minutes he raised his eyes to see the glint of those -which seemed to be watching him suspiciously through the thick veil, as -if ready to take alarm at the slightest word or gesture on his part, and -at once the power to continue his work was gone. He felt that he must -speak, and in a deep husky voice he began-- - -"You have been very ill, then?" - -"Yes, monsieur," curtly and distantly. - -"I wondered very much at not seeing you. I was alarmed." - -"I do not see why monsieur should feel alarm." - -"Of course, on account of my picture," he said awkwardly. Then laying -down his palette and brushes, he saw that the model gave a sudden start, -but once more stood motionless as he took out his pocket-book, and -withdrew the pencil. - -"Will you give me your address?" - -"Why should monsieur wish for my address?" - -"To communicate with you. If I had known, I should have been spared -much anxiety. Tell me, and I will write it down." - -"With that of the women who wait monsieur's orders? No!" - -This was spoken so imperiously that Dale replaced the pencil and book, -and took up palette and brushes. - -"As you will," he said, and he began to paint once more. - -But the power to convey all he wished to the canvas had gone, and he -turned to her again. - -"Tell me more about yourself," he said. "You are a foreigner, and -friendless here in England: I know that, but tell me more. I may be of -service to you." - -"Monsieur is being of service to me. He pays me for occupying this -degrading position to which I am driven." - -There was so much angry bitterness in her tones that Dale was again -silenced; but his pulse beat high, and as he applied his brush to his -canvas from time to time, there were only results that he would have to -wipe away. - -"I am sorry you consider the task degrading," he said at last. "I have -endeavoured to make it as little irksome as I could." - -"Monsieur has been most kind till now," she said quickly; and then, in a -bitterly contemptuous tone, "monsieur forgets that I am waiting. His -pencil is idle." - -He started angrily, and went on painting, but the eyes were still -watching him, and, strive all he would, there was the intense desire -growing once more to see that face which was hidden from him so closely. -He knew that he ought to respect his visitor's scruples, but he could -not, and again and again he shivered with a sensation nearly approaching -to dread. But the wish was still supreme. That black woollen veil -piqued him, and after a few minutes of worthless work, he asked her if -she was weary. - -"Yes," she replied. - -"Then we will rest a few minutes." - -"No, monsieur; go on. I am your slave for the time." - -He started at her words, and as much at her tone, which was as full of -hauteur as if she were some princess. But now, instead of this driving -him in very shame to continue his work, it only impressed him the more. -There was a mystery about her and her ways. The almost insolent -contempt with which she treated him made him angry, and his anger -increased to rage as he fully realised how weak and mortal he was as -man. He tried not to own it to himself, but he knew that a strange -passion had developed itself within him, and with mingled pleasure and -pain he felt that this beautiful woman could read him through and -through, and that hour by hour her feelings toward him became more and -more those of contempt. - -He did not stop to reason, for he was rapidly becoming blind to -everything but his unconquerable desire to see her face. There were -moments when he felt ready to rage against himself for his weakness and, -as he called it, folly; but all this was swept away, and at last, as the -sitting went on and the model haughtily refused to leave the dais for a -time to rest, he found himself asking whether there was not after all -truth in the old legends, and whether, enraged by his shrinking from -Lady Dellatoria's passionate avowals, the author of all evil had not -sent some beautiful demon to tempt him and show him how weak he was -after all. It was maddening, and at last he threw down palette and -brushes to begin striding up and down the room, carefully averting his -eyes from his model, who stood there as motionless as if she were some -lovely statue. - -At last he returned to his canvas. - -"You must be tired now," he said hurriedly. "Rest for a while." - -"I'm not tired now," she replied coldly, "if monsieur will continue." - -"I cannot paint to-day," he said hoarsely. "You trouble me. What I -have done is valueless." - -"I trouble monsieur?" she said coldly. "Am I not patient?--can I be -more still?" - -He made a mighty effort over self, and for the moment conquered. -Seizing his brushes and palette, he began to paint once more, but in a -reckless way, as if merely to keep himself occupied, but as he turned -his eyes from his canvas from time to time to study the beautiful model, -standing there in that imperious attitude, strange, mysterious, and -weird, with the black enmasking above the graceful voluptuous figure, he -lost more and more the self-command he had maintained. - -For a few minutes he told himself that he was mistaken, that her eyes -must be closed; but it was, he knew too well, a mere mental subterfuge: -they were gleaming through that black network, and piercing him to the -very soul. - -He could bear it no longer, and again throwing down brushes and palette, -he paced the room for a minute or two before turning to the marble -figure standing so motionless before him. - -"I tell you I cannot paint," he cried angrily. "It is as if you were -casting some spell over me. I must see your face. Why do you persist -in this fancy? Your masked countenance takes off my attention. I beg-- -I insist--remove that veil." - -"I do not quite understand monsieur," she said coldly. "He speaks in a -language that is not mine, neither is it his. He confuses me. I am -trying to be a patient model, but everything is wrong to-day. Will he -tell me what I should do to give him satisfaction?" - -"Take off that veil!" cried Dale. - -The model caught up the cloak and flung it around her shoulders. - -"Now, quick!" cried Dale excitedly, "that veil!" - -"Monsieur is ill. Shall I call for help?" - -"No, no, I am not ill. Once more I beg, I pray of you--take off that -veil." - -"But monsieur is so strange--so unlike himself," she cried, as, taking -another step forward, Dale caught the hand which held the cloak in his. - -"Now!" he cried wildly, with his eyes flashing, and trying to pierce the -woollen mask--"that veil!" For a moment the warm soft hand clung to his -convulsively, and the other rose with the arm in a graceful movement -towards the shrouded face; but, as if angry with herself for being about -to yield to his mad importunity, she snatched away the hand he held, and -with the other thrust him back violently. - -"It is infamous!" she cried, with her eyes flashing through the veil. -"It is an insult. Monsieur, it is to the woman you love that you should -speak those words;" and, with an imperious gesture, she stepped down -from the dais as if it had been her throne, and with her face turned -toward Dale, she walked with calm dignity, her head thrown back, and the -folds of the cloak gathered round her, to the inner door, passed -through, and for the first time, when it was closed, he heard the lock -give a sharp snap as it was shot into the socket Dale stood motionless -in the middle of the studio, his eyes bloodshot and his pulses throbbing -heavily, unable for some little time either to think or move. - -"Yes," he muttered, as he grew calmer; "it was an insult, and she -revenges herself upon me. An hour ago I was to her a chivalrous man in -whose honour she could have faith. Now I am degraded in her eyes to the -level of the brute, and--she trusts me no longer. Do I love this woman -whose face I have never seen, or am I going mad?" - -But he was alone now, and he grew more calm as the minutes glided by; -and once more making a tremendous effort to command himself, he waited -as patiently as he could for the opening of the door. - -In a few minutes there was the sharp snap again of the lock being -turned, the door was thrown open, and the tall dark figure swept out -into the great studio with head erect and indignant mien. - -She had to pass close by him to reach the farther door, but she looked -straight before her, completely ignoring his presence till in excited -tones he said--"One moment--pray stop." - -She had passed him, but she arrested her steps and half turned her head -as a queen might, to listen to some suppliant who was about to offer his -petition. - -"Forgive me," he panted. "I was not myself. You will forget all this. -Do not let my madness drive you away." - -He was standing with his hands extended as if to seize her again, but -she gathered her cloak tightly round her, so that he could see once more -the curves and contour of the form he had transferred to canvas, as she -passed on to the door, where she stopped and waited for him, according -to his custom, to turn the key. - -Her mute action and gesture dragged him to the door as if he were -completely under her influence; and, throwing it open, he once more said -pleadingly, and in a low deep voice which trembled from the emotion by -which he was overcome-- - -"Forgive me: I was half mad." - -But she made no sign. Walking swiftly now, she passed out on to the -landing, descended the staircase, and as he stood listening, he heard -the light step and the rustling of her garments, till she reached the -heavy front door, which was opened and closed with a heavy, dull, -echoing sound. - -But still Dale did not move. He stood as if bound there by the spell of -which he had spoken, till all at once he uttered a faint cry, snatched -his hat, and followed her out into the street. - -Too late. There was no sign of the black cloaked figure, and, after -hurrying in different directions for several minutes, he returned to his -studio utterly crushed. - -"Gone!" he muttered, as he threw himself into a chair. "I shall never -see her more. Great heavens! Do I love this woman? Am I so vile?" - -"Please, sir, may I come in?" - -Dale started up and tried to look composed, as little Keren-Happuch -entered with a note in her hand. - -"One o' them scented ones, sir," said the girl. "It was in the -letter-box. I found it two hours ago, but I did not like to bring it -in." - -As soon as Dale was alone, his eyes fell upon the Contessa's well-known -hand, and, without opening the letter, he gazed at it, and recalled the -past. - -At last his lips parted, and he said thoughtfully-- - -"Loved me with an unholy love. It is retribution! She must have felt -as I do now." - -CHAPTER SIXTEEN. - -JOB PACEY AT HOME. - -Pacey sat back in a shabby old chair, in a shabby room. The -surroundings were poor and yet rich--the former applying to the -furniture, the latter to the many clever little gems presented to him by -his artist friends, many of whom were still poor as he, others high up -on the steps leading to the temple of fame. - -Joseph Pacey's hair needed cutting, and his beard looked tangled and -wild; and as he sat back in his slippers, he looked the very opposite of -his _vis-a-vis_, the exquisitely neat, waxed-moustached, closely clipped -young Frenchman who assisted briskly in the formation of the cloud of -smoke which floated overhead by making and consuming cigarettes, what -time the tenant of the shabby rooms nursed a huge meerschaum pipe, which -he kept in a glow and replenished, as he would an ordinary fire, by -putting a pinch of fresh fuel on the top from time to time. - -"Humph!" he ejaculated, frowning. "And so you think he has got the -feminine fever badly?" - -"But you do say it funny, my friend," said Leronde. "Why, of course. -Toujours--always the same. As we say--`cherchez la femme.' Vive la -femme! But helas! How she do prove our ruin, and turn us as you say -round your turn." - -There was silence for a few moments, during which, as he sat shaggy and -frowning in the smoke, Pacey looked as if some magician were gradually -turning his head into that of a lion. - -"Seen him the last day or two?" - -"Yes," said Leronde, putting out his tongue and running the edge of a -newly rolled cigarette paper along the moist tip. "I go to see him -yesterday." - -"Well. What did he say?" - -"And I ask him to come for an hour to the Vivarium to see the new -ballet." - -"I asked you what he said." - -"He say--`Go to the devil.'" - -"Well, did you go?" - -"Yes. I come on here at once." - -Pacey glowered at him, but his French friend was innocent of any double -entendre; and at that moment there was a sharp knock at the outer door-- -the well-worn oak on the staircase of Number 9 Bolt Inn. - -"Aha! Vive la compagnie!" cried Leronde. - -"Humph! Some one for money," muttered Pacey. "Who can it be? Well, it -doesn't matter: I've got none.--Here, dandy," he said aloud, "open the -door. Shut the other first, and tell whoever it is that I cannot see -him. Engaged--ill--anything you like." - -"Yes, I see. I am a fly," said the young Frenchman, and, passing -through the inner door, he closed it after him and opened the outer, to -return in a minute with two cards. - -"Who was it?" growled Pacey. - -"A lady and gentleman. I told them you could not see any one, and they -are gone." - -Pacey snatched the cards, glanced at them, uttered an ejaculation, and -springing up, he threw down his pipe, and nearly did the same by his -companion as he rushed to the door, passed out on to the landing, and -began to run down the stairs. - -"My faith, but he is a droll of a man," muttered Leronde, pointing his -moustache; "but I love him. Aha! always the woman. How he run as soon -as he read the name. We are all alike, we men. What was it? Mees -Torpe and--faith of a man--she was pretty. Mees! I thought it was her -husband at first. H'm! The lover perhaps." - -The door flew open again and Pacey returned, showing in Cornel Thorpe -and her brother. - -"Here, Leronde," cried Pacey excitedly. "Excuse me--very particular -business, old fellow." - -"You wish me to go?" said Leronde stiffly, as he waited for an -introduction. - -"If you wouldn't mind, and--look here," continued Pacey, drawing him -outside. "Don't be hurt, old fellow--this is very particular. You saw -the names on the cards?" - -"Oh yes." - -"Not a word then to Armstrong." - -"I do not tiddle-taddle," said Leronde stiffly. "That's right. I trust -you, old fellow. Come back at six, and we'll go and dine in Soho." - -"But--the lady?" - -"Bah! Nonsense, man! This is business. Au revoir--till six." - -Pacey hurried back and closed both doors, to find his visitors standing -in the middle of the room, Cornel pale and anxious, and her brother -stern, distant, and angry of eye. - -"I did not expect you, Miss Thorpe," cried Pacey warmly. "Pray sit -down." - -"I think my sister and I can finish our interview without sitting down, -sir. You are Mr. Joseph Pacey?" - -"I am," said the artist, as coldly now as the speaker. - -"And you wrote to my sister--" - -"Michael, dear, I will speak to Mr. Pacey, please," said Cornel, and she -turned to the artist and held out her hand. "Thank you for writing to -me, Mr. Pacey," she continued. "I thought it better, as my brother was -coming to England, to accompany him and see you myself." - -She sank into the chair Pacey had placed for her, and after a -contemptuous look round at the shabby surroundings, the doctor followed -her example. - -"My brother is angry, Mr. Pacey; he is indignant on my behalf. He -thinks me foolish and obstinate in coming here to see you, and that I am -lowering myself, and not displaying proper pride." - -"I do," said the doctor firmly. - -"Out of his tender love for me, Mr. Pacey," Cornel continued, with her -sweet pathetic voice seeming to ring and find an echo in the old -artist's heart; "but I felt it to be my duty to come to know the truth." - -"You have done wisely, madam," said Pacey. "When I wrote you it was in -the hope that you would come and save a man whom I have liked--there, -call it sentimentality if you please--loved as a brother--I ought to -say, I suppose, as a son." - -"Your letter, sir, suggested that my old schoolfellow--the man who was -betrothed to my sister--has in some way gone wrong." - -Pacey bowed his head. - -"Cornel, dear, you hear this. It is sufficient. We do not wish to pry -into Armstrong Dale's affairs. We know enough. Now, are you -satisfied?" - -"No.--Mr. Pacey, your words have formed a bond between us greater than -existed before. I have heard of you so often from Armstrong, and come -to you as our friend, in obedience to your letter. I ask you then to -keep nothing back, but to speak to me plainly. Please remember that I -am an American girl. I think we are different from your ladies here. -Not bolder, but firm, plain-spoken, honest and true. We feel a true -shame as keenly as the proudest of your patrician maidens; but we crush -down false, and that is why I come to you instead of writing to and -making appeals to the man whom I have known from childhood--the man who -was betrothed to me, and who loved me dearly, as I loved him, only so -short a time ago. There, you see how simply and plainly I speak, the -more so that I know you have Armstrong Dale's welfare at heart." - -"God knows I have," said Pacey fervently. - -"Then tell me plainly, Mr. Pacey." - -"Cornel!" - -"I will speak, Michael," she said gently. "His happiness and mine -depend upon my knowing the truth.--Mr. Pacey, I am waiting." - -Pacey gazed at her with his face full of reverence for the woman before -whom he stood, but no words left his lips. - -"You are silent," she said calmly. "You fear to tell me the worst. He -is not ill: you said so. He cannot be in want of money. Then it is as -I gathered from your letter: he has been led into some terrible -temptation." - -Pacey bowed his head gravely. - -"Now, are you satisfied?" said Thorpe earnestly. "I knew that it was -so." - -"And I clung so fondly to the hope that it was not," said Cornel, gazing -straight before her, and as if she were thinking aloud. Then, turning -to Pacey--"He was becoming famous, was he not?" - -"Yes." - -"Succeeding wonderfully with his art?" - -"Grandly." - -"And now this has all come like a cloud," sighed Cornel dreamily. Then -again to Pacey, in spite of her brother's frown, "Is she very -beautiful?" - -Pacey paused for a moment, and then said sadly--"Very beautiful." - -"And does she love him as he does her?" - -"I fear so," said Pacey at last. - -Cornel drew a long and piteous sigh, and they saw the tears brimming in -her eyes, run over, and trickle down her cheeks. - -"Let us go, dear," she said softly. "I was too happy for it to last. -Forgive me: I felt that I must know--all. Good-bye, Mr. Pacey," she -continued, holding out her hand, while her face was of a deadly white. -"I am glad you wrote. You thought it would be best, but he must love -her better than ever he loved me, and perhaps it is for his -advancement." - -"It is for his ruin, I tell you," cried Pacey fiercely. - -"But you said she loved him. Is she not true and good?" - -"Girl!" cried Pacey, with his brows knotted by the swelling veins, "can -the devil who tempts a man in woman's form be true and good?" - -"Ah!" - -Ejaculation as much as sigh, and accompanied by a wild look of horror. -Then, with her manner completely changed, Cornel laid her hand upon -Pacey's arm. - -"Who is this woman?" she said firmly. - -Pacey compressed his lips, but the beautiful eyes fixed upon him forced -the words to come, and in a low voice he muttered the Contessa's name. - -Then he stood looking at his visitor wonderingly, as, with her lips now -white as if all the blood within them had fled to her heart, she said -firmly-- - -"And the Conte?" - -"Is a man of fashion--a dog--a scoundrel whom I could crush beneath my -heel." - -"Cornel," cried her brother firmly, "you have heard enough: you shall -not degrade yourself by listening to these wretched details." - -"Yes, I have heard enough," she said firmly; but she did not stir, only -stood with her brows knit, gazing straight before her. - -"Then now you will come back to the hotel," cried the doctor eagerly. - -"No: not yet," she said, drawing herself up. - -"Not yet?" cried Thorpe, in wonder at the firmness and determination she -displayed. - -"Not yet: I am going to see Armstrong Dale." - -"No," cried Pacey excitedly. "You must not do that. I will see him and -tell him you are here. It may bring him to his senses, and he will come -to you." - -Cornel turned to him, smiling sadly. - -"You tell me that he is slipping away into the gulf, and when I would go -to hold out my hands to save him, you say, `Wait, and he will come to -you!'" - -"At any rate you cannot go," cried Thorpe. - -"Armstrong Dale is my affianced husband, and at heart, in his weakness -and despair, he calls to me for help. I am going to him now." - -"And God speed your work!" cried Pacey excitedly, "for if ever angel -came to help man in his sorest need, it is now." - -The next minute, without a word, Cornel Thorpe was walking alone down -the old staircase to the street, while Pacey and her brother followed, -as if they were in a dream. - -CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. - -ANOTHER'S LOVE. - -Four days had passed, and Armstrong had not left his place, but waited, -hoping against hope, and at last sinking into a wild state of despair. - -"I must have been mad," he said again and again. "One false step leads -to another, and I am going downward rapidly enough now." - -He smiled bitterly as he sat with his head resting upon his hand, -feeling that he had driven his beautiful model away for ever, and vainly -asking himself how it could be that so mad a passion had sprung up -within him for a woman whose face he had never seen. - -Then all at once he sprang to his feet, with his eyes flashing as he -listened eagerly, and then a strange look of triumph began to glow in -his countenance. "I must be more guarded," he said to himself, "or she -will take flight again:" and catching up palette and brush, he made a -pretence of painting as he waited with his back to the door for the -entrance of her whose step was heard ascending the stairs in company -with Keren-Happuch. Then he heard the girl's voice, and his heart sank -like lead in doubt, for he felt that the model would have come up -without being shown. - -But the next moment he was full of hope as the door was opened, closed, -and he heard the familiar rustle of the drapery, and the step across the -floor. - -He did not turn, but stood there with his heart beating violently, and a -wild desire bidding him turn round quickly and snatch the veil from his -models face. He was a coward, he told himself, not to have done so -before. What did her anger matter? Had she not come back--penitent-- -friendly-- - -His heart gave a great leap. - ---Loving, for she laid her hand upon his shoulder, and he turned round -with a smile of triumph, to drop palette and brushes and turn white as -ashes. - -"Cornel!" - -"Yes, Armstrong. The world grows very small now. You wanted me, and I -am here." - -"I--I wanted you?" he faltered, as she took a step or two back, and then -stood gazing at him wistfully, with her hands clasped before her, and a -look of love, pity, and despair in her eyes that stung him through and -through. - -"Yes, Armstrong, I heard that you were in great peril. We were children -together. Armstrong--you wanted help--and--I have come." - -He sank into the nearest chair with a groan, and she advanced slowly and -stood close to him. - -"I have felt for weeks that there was something: your letters were so -different. Then they became fewer; then they ceased. But I said you -were busy, and I waited so patiently, Armstrong, till that message -came." - -"What message?" he cried hoarsely. - -"That which told me I ought to join Michael, and help you in this time -of need." - -"Who--who wrote to you?" he cried. - -"There is no need to hide his name. Your dearest friend, Mr. Pacey." - -"The wretched meddler!" - -"The true, honest gentleman you have always said he was, Armstrong. I -have come from him now." - -"The cowardly hound!" muttered Dale. - -"No; your truest and best friend. He wrote to me for your sake and -mine, Armstrong, and I have come." - -"What for?--to treat me with scorn and contempt?" he cried angrily, -snatching at a chance to speak; "to tell me that all is over between us? -Why have you not brought your brother with you, to horsewhip me and add -his insults to your upbraidings?" - -"Michael is here,"--Dale started, and looked with a coward's glance at -the door--"he is in London, but it was not his duty to come to the man -who is my betrothed. I came alone to ask you--if it is all true?" - -He drew a hoarse breath, and then forced himself to speak brutally, to -hide the shame and agony he felt. - -"Yes," he said roughly; "it is all true." - -She winced as if he had struck her, and there was silence for a few -moments before she spoke again, and then in a curiously changed voice, -from her agony of heart. - -"No, no," she whispered at last; "it cannot be true. It is a strange -dream. I cannot--I will not believe it." - -He strove again and again to speak, but no words would come. He tried -to speak gently and ask her to forgive him, but in vain; and at last, -even more brutally than before, he cried-- - -"I tell you it is true! If you knew all this, how could you come?" - -There was a pause before Cornel spoke again, and then she drew herself -up with an imperious gesture, and her words came firmly and full of -defiance of the world. - -"I came because I heard the man I loved was beaten down and wounded in -the fight of life, and I said--`What is it to me?--he loved me very -dearly, and if he has been met by a strange temptation, and has fallen, -my place is there. I will go to him, and remind him of the past, and -point out again the forward way.' Armstrong, that is why I have come." - -He groaned, and his voice was softened now, and half-choked by the agony -and despair at his heart. - -"Go back," he said, "and forget me, Cornel; I am not the man you -thought. I left you strong in my belief in self, ready for the fight, -but your knight of truth and honour has turned out to be only a sorry -pawn. I don't ask you to forgive me: I only say, for your own sake, go, -and forget that such a villain ever lived." - -"Then it is all true?" she said sternly. - -"I don't know what Joe Pacey has said," he cried bitterly, as he gazed -in the sweet womanly face before him, "but I make the only reparation -that I can. I speak frankly, Cornel dear, and tell you that the worst -he could say of me would not exceed the truth. Utterly unworthy-- -utterly base--I am not fit to touch your hand." - -As he spoke now in his excitement, he took a step toward her, and she -drew back. - -"Yes!" he cried bitterly; "you are right. Shrink from me and go." - -"No," she said, after another pause, "I will not shrink from you; I will -not upbraid; I will only say to you, Tear these scales from your eyes, -and see, as Armstrong Dale, my old playfellow--brother--lover--used to -see. Break from the entanglement, like the man you always were, and be -yourself again." - -"No!" he groaned, "I am no longer master of myself. For God's sake, -go!" - -"And leave you to this--caught in these toils, to struggle wildly for a -time, and for what?--a life of misery and repentance? It is not true; -you are too strong for this. Armstrong, for your own sake--for all at -home--one brave effort. Pluck her from your heart." - -He looked at her sadly for a few moments, and then shook his head. - -"Impossible!" he groaned. "It is too late." - -"No!" she cried excitedly; "even on the very edge there is time to drag -you away. Armstrong--I cannot bear it--come with me, dearest. You -loved me once; you made me care for you and think of you as all the -world to me. This woman--she cannot love you as I do, dear. For I do -love you with all my poor heart. Don't quite break it, dear, for I -forgive you everything, only come back with me now. Do you not hear me? -I forgive you everything, and you will come." - -She staggered toward him with her arms open to clasp him to her breast, -but he shrank away with a groan of despair. - -"No," he said; "it is too late--too late!" - -She heaved a piteous sigh, and her hands fell to her sides. Then, with -her head bent, she walked slowly to the door, passed out, and he heard -her steps descending. A few moments later there were voices in the -hall, followed by the heavy closing of the door, which seemed to shut -him for ever from all that was good and true, alone with his despair as -he turned to his canvas, where he gazed upon the form he had created, -apparently the only memory of a mad passion which had crushed him to the -earth. - -CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. - -GAGE OF BATTLE. - -"You, Mr. Pacey? Where is my brother?" - -"Gone back to the hotel. Left me to wait till you came out.--Seen him? -Bah! I needn't have asked that." - -Cornel was silent for a few moments as she walked on side by side with -her strange-looking companion. - -"Why did my brother go back to the hotel?" - -"To cool himself." - -Cornel looked round wonderingly. - -"Temper," said Pacey shortly. "Said he couldn't contain himself; that -he was mad to let you come to see Armstrong; and at last I persuaded him -to go back, and said I'd see you safely to the hotel." - -"And do you think I was doing wrong to go, Mr. Pacey?" she said, turning -upon him her candid eyes. - -"No: I stood out here feeling more religious than I have these twenty -years. Ah! you don't understand. Never mind. Tell me you've brought -him to his senses." - -Corners brow contracted, and she shook her head. - -"Oh, but you should have done, my dear," cried Pacey angrily. "You've -been too hard upon him. Try and forgive him just a little bit. It's -life and death, ruin and destruction to as fine a lad as ever stepped." - -"Yes," said Cornel piteously. - -"Then you shouldn't have been so stern with him, you know. He has been -a blackguard; he deserves something. I am more bitter with him than -ever, but, my dear--don't flinch because I speak so familiarly: I'm old -enough to be your father--I say, if there is to be no forgiveness, -there'll be very few of us men in heaven, I'm afraid, for we're a bad -lot, my child, a very bad lot, though I don't think it's all our fault." - -Cornel looked up at him again, with her nether lip quivering. - -"That's right," said Pacey; "I don't know much about women, but that -means being sorry for him just a little. Now, look here: don't you -think you and I might go back together, and I leave you with him five -minutes while you bring him to his knees, and then promise to forgive -him some day?" - -Pacey stopped short to say this, and took a half turn to go back. To -his surprise, Cornel placed her hand upon his arm. - -"Take me out of this busy street," she whispered, "or I shall break -down. You do not know how I pleaded to him and offered him -forgiveness." - -"You did?" - -"Yes," in a faint whisper, "I offered to forgive everything if he would -come away." - -"And he wouldn't? You tell me he wouldn't?" - -"No!" in the faintest of whispers. - -"Oh!" ejaculated Pacey, as he hurried her along. "That settles it then. -You offered to forgive him, and he refused? Then you've had an escape, -my dear. He is not worthy of another thought. There, let me take you -back to your brother. I thought better of him, and that the sight of -the sweetest, truest little woman who ever breathed would bring him to -his senses--make a man of him again. There, I'm very sorry--no, I'm -not, for I've done my duty by him, and you've done yours." - -"No, we have not," said Cornel, growing firmer once more. "There is -much to do yet. This lady--this Contessa?" - -"Well, what about her?" said Pacey, frowning. - -"You told me that she is very beautiful." - -"Yes, and so is some poison--clear as crystal." - -"You know, then, where she lives?" - -"Oh yes, I know where she lives," growled Pacey savagely. - -"Take me to her." - -Pacey shook himself free, and literally glared at the plainly dressed -girl at his side. - -"I wish you would take me to her, Mr. Pacey. I must see her at once." - -"You? You see her? That tiger lily of a woman! No, that won't do at -all." - -"Mr. Pacey, I must see her. I have failed with Armstrong, but something -tells me that I may succeed with her." - -"But do you know what sort of a woman she is?" - -"A lady of title, beautiful and rich." - -"Oh yes; but, my dear child, you who are as fresh as a little -lily-of-the-valley, what could you say to her? Why, she is a heartless -woman of fashion, proud as a female Lucifer, and you would only be -exposing yourself to insult." - -"She would injure herself more than me," replied Cornel. Then, after -they had walked a few yards in silence, she turned to her companion. - -"Mr. Pacey, you are Armstrong's most trusted friend?" - -"I was once, but that's over now." - -"No; true friends do not leave those they love when they are in their -sorest need. I must--I will save Armstrong from this woman's toils. He -has ceased to love me, but I cannot, when a word might save him, keep -back that word. Take me to this lady's home." - -"But, my dear Miss Thorpe--" - -"I have known you for over a year, Mr. Pacey, though we only met to-day -for the first time." - -"Yes; and I've known you, my dear," said Pacey, "though he never half -did you justice." - -"Then I am Cornel Thorpe to you. Now listen: we must save him." - -"But--" - -"What is this lady's name?" - -"The Contessa Dellatoria." - -"Take me to her at once." - -"And she could not master him?" muttered Pacey. "She masters me." - -He was already walking her on fast towards Portland Place, where fortune -favoured the mission, for a carriage and pair passed them, driven -rapidly, as they were close to the house, and Pacey told his companion -that the fashionably dressed lady leaning back was the Contessa, with -the effect of making Cornel hasten her pace after quitting Pacey's arm; -while, resigning himself to the inevitable, he advanced more slowly, -watching the scene before him as the carriage stopped. The footman ran -up and gave a thundering knock and heavy peal, with the result that the -door was thrown open at once, two more servants waiting to receive their -lady. - -By the time the steps were rattled down, and Valentina had alighted, -Cornel was at her side, pale and trembling, in her simple, plainly cut -black dress, cloak, and bonnet with its thin silk veil. - -"Can I speak to you, madam?" she said faintly. The Contessa turned upon -her in wonder, and Cornel shrank for the moment from the beautiful, -magnificently dressed woman. - -"Speak to me?" she said haughtily, as her eyes swept over the American -girl. Then, as she walked towards the door, "Who are you? what are -you--a hospital nurse?" - -"Sometimes," said Cornel, fighting hard to be firm. - -"Oh, I see: then you want a subscription for your charity. This is -neither the time nor the place." The Contessa swept on, but Cornel was -at her side again before she could reach the door. - -"No, no, madam, you are mistaken," she cried in a low voice. "I wish -to--I must see you." - -Valentina's eyes dilated a little, and she looked wonderingly at the -speaker. - -"I--I have a message for you. I must speak to you. Take me to your -room, for Heaven's sake." - -A policeman was approaching, and the butler stepped out, saying -significantly-- - -"Shall I speak to the young person, my lady?" No answer was vouchsafed, -for just then Cornel caught the Contessa by the arm and whispered-- - -"You must see me, madam. It is life or death to one you know--one whom, -I believe, you would not injure." - -"Hush! Who cure you?" - -"A stranger from a distant land, madam." Valentina started, and the -rich blood flushed to her cheeks. - -"I landed from America yesterday. Pray hear me. Your future depends -upon it, and--perhaps--my life." - -The Contessa made a sign to Cornel to follow, and entered the door; and -a minute after, as Pacey passed slowly by, he ground his teeth when he -heard the coachman say to the footman, who was crossing the pavement -with a shawl over one arm, and a basket containing a carriage clock, -scent bottle, card case, and Court Guide-- - -"I say, Dicky, what game do you call that?" - -"Last noo dodge for raising the wind," said the footman, and he went in -and closed the door. - -"A hurricane, I should say," muttered Pacey. "Poor little girl, can she -face the storm?--I don't know though--there's a strength in her that -masters me." - -Meanwhile Lady Dellatoria led the way to the boudoir, held aside the -portiere, and signed to Cornel to enter. Then following, the great -velvet curtain was dropped, and they stood face to face, scanning each -other's features, and measuring the one whom a natural instinct taught -each to consider the great enemy of her life. Cornel's heart sank as -she stood thus in the presence of her beautiful rival. For the moment, -she was ready to sink into one of the luxurious lounges, and sob for -very despair as she felt how unlikely it was that Armstrong could still -care for the simple homely girl who had come across the wide ocean to -save him--him, a willing victim to one who gazed at her with such -contempt, and who at last broke the silence. - -"Well," she said, "I have granted your request. Why do you not speak?" - -"I was thinking, madam, how beautiful you are." - -Valentina smiled faintly, and raised her eyebrows. It was such an old -compliment paid to her. - -"You wished to speak to me about some one I know. Have you brought a -message? Who are you?" - -"I am the poor American girl to whom Armstrong Dale plighted his troth -before he left us to make his name and fame." - -The Contessa's eyes were slightly veiled. It was no message then from -him, and she avoided the searching eyes, so full of innocence and truth, -that gazed at her, as she said huskily-- - -"Well, what is that to me?" - -Cornel looked at her wonderingly, asking herself whether there was a -mistake; but growing confident, she went on-- - -"This, madam: my lover--I speak to you in the homely fashion of our -people--my lover came here to England, and his success was beyond my -wildest dreams. We wrote to each other, and we were happy in the -expectation of our future, till he saw you, and then--all was changed." - -"Is this the beginning of some romance? But, of course--your -love-story." - -"Yes, madam, and no romance. But I do not come to speak angrily to -you--I do not heap reproaches upon your head. I come to you simply as -one woman in suffering should appeal to another." - -The Contessa made a contemptuous gesture. - -"In my simple, faithful love for the man pledged to be my husband--the -man who has sinned against me in what is but a base love for you--I am -ready to forgive him, and look upon the past as dead. And now I come as -a suppliant to you, asking you to set him free, that he may sin no -more." - -"What! How dare you?" cried the Contessa. "Such words to me!" - -"From his promised wife, madam! Yes: I dare tell you, because, with all -your wealth and beauty, even your power over his weakness, I am stronger -in my right. You have blinded him--turned him from the path of duty-- -you are the destroyer of his future." - -"Absurd, girl! This Mr. Dale, the artist employed by my husband--surely -in his vanity he has not dared--" - -She ceased speaking, and shrank from Cornel's clear, candid gaze. - -"No, madam, he has not dared--he has not spoken. He does not know that -I have taken this step." - -"Most unwisely." - -"No, madam, I know that I am acting wisely--in his interest and yours." - -"My good girl, this is insufferable. If you were not a stranger to our -customs in England, I would not listen to you." - -"There is no custom, madam, in a woman's love, here or in America. -Heart speaks to heart. He is my promised husband: give him back to me. -I plead to you for your own sake as well as mine." - -"This is mere romance." - -"Again I say no, madam, but the truth. Think of your peril, too." - -"Silence!" - -"I will not be silent," said Cornel firmly. "You love him: I see it in -your quivering lips, and the blood that comes and goes in your cheek. -You hate me, madam, as a rival. Well, let me prove your love for him." - -"Will you be silent, girl?" cried the Contessa hastily. - -"No; I must speak now. You would not have listened to me so long had I -not spoken truth. You love him--you dare not deny it. Well, I love him -too, and I tell you that your love came like a blight upon his life." - -"Woman, will you--" - -"No; I will not be silent," said Cornel firmly: "but even if I ceased to -speak, my words would ring in your ears. It is not love that holds him -to you, or you to him, but a blind mad passion, the destroyer of you -both. Call it love if you will, but prove that love by giving him up to -return to his old, peaceful life." - -"And your arms?" whispered the Contessa maliciously. - -"Ah! The proof!" cried Cornel. "No one but a spiteful rival could have -spoken that. But your love is not as mine. I will not ask you to give -him back to me, but to set him free before some horror descends upon you -both. Your husband--" - -"Hush!" - -Valentina gave a quick look round, and Cornel flushed in her eagerness -as she exclaimed-- - -"The shadow over both your lives! You know it. Now, madam, prove your -love by freeing him from such a risk. How can you call it love that -threatens him with danger and disgrace!" - -"And if I tell you that you, a foolish, jealous girl, are conjuring up -all this in your excited brain--that I have listened to you patiently-- -and that I will hear no more?" - -"I will tell you that your love for Armstrong is a mockery and snare, -that you throw down the guage, and that I will save him from you yet." - -"And how? Bring some false charge against him to my husband? Set about -some lying slander on my name?" - -"Bring you to public shame--bring disgrace upon the head of the man I -love? No, madam. You refuse my offer?--No: you will hear me. Give him -up, as I will for his sake--woman--sister--am I to plead in vain?" - -The Contessa pointed to the door. - -"Yes," said Cornel quietly. "I will go, but I will save him yet." - -"Then it is war," muttered the Contessa, whose eyes contracted as she -stood listening as if expecting a return; "and you will save him? Yes: -to take to your heart? Not yet." - -She hurried to the window as the faint sound of the closing door was -heard, and held aside the curtain, so as to gaze down the wide place, -and see Cornel take Pacey's arm, and, as if weak and suffering, walk -slowly away. - -"Bah! What is she to me, with her pitiful schoolgirl love?--`Save him -yet!'" - -She crossed the room and rang. Then, throwing herself into a lounge, -she waited till the servant entered. - -"Is your master in?" - -"No, my lady. Lady Grayson called. Gone to the Academy, I think." - -"That will do." - -Left alone, Valentina sprang to her feet, and pressed her temples. - -The next minute, with a smile upon her lip, and an intense look as of a -set purpose in her eye, she went slowly from the room. - -CHAPTER NINETEEN. - -CHECK. - -What to do? - -Armstrong's constant question to himself. - -His determination, arrived at again and again, was to flee at once from -the horrible passion which was sapping the life out of him--his insane -love for a woman who evidently despised him, and whose face he had never -seen. - -He argued that, by going right away to Rome, Florence, or even merely to -Paris, he would avoid Lady Dellatoria, who would soon forget him as he -would forget this Italian woman, who--he could not explain to himself -why--had, as it were, woven some spell round him and made him half mad. - -He reasoned with himself, called upon the teaching of his early life, -mocked at his folly, and told himself that he had got the better of the -insane passion--that he had disgusted this woman by his insults, and -that he was free, for she would come no more. But in another hour he -was watching for her coming, and trying to contrive some means of -tracing her, and begging her to come again. - -Why?--that he might stand spell-bound again before that masked face, -tortured, enslaved, and in greater despair than ever? - -"It is of no use!" he muttered passionately. "I have not the mental -strength of a child. I must go right away from the horrible -temptation--and at once." - -He made a step or two toward his room. He had money enough; a few -things could be packed, and in an hour he might be on his way to Dover. -After that the world was before him, so that he could seek for peace. - -No. Michael Thorpe and his sister were in London. It would be the act -of a coward to flee now, and be dragging himself down lower still in -their eyes. He could not go: Michael Thorpe would be sure to come -before long, he felt, and he wished he would. It would be a relief to -have some savage quarrel. Hah! there was an opportunity: Pacey, who had -betrayed him and brought Cornel over for that shameful scene, after -which he had felt that his life had better end. - -"No," he said half aloud, "I can't quarrel with poor old Joe. He meant -well, and he was right. But I cannot leave London now." - -He burst into a mocking laugh the next minute, for he would not indulge -in self-deceit. He knew that it was not merely the dread of being -thought cowardly which kept him there, but his mad passion for this -woman, who treated him as if he were a dog. - -Then he grew calmer, and tried to reason with himself. She had not -treated him as a dog. Her conduct had been irreproachable. No lady -could have been more modest or refined in her conduct throughout. She -had come there merely as a model, and he had conceived this strange -passion for her in spite of distant coldness, and complete disdain. He -remembered in a score of things how she had borne herself as if -conferring a favour by coming and taking his money; and he knew, too, -how it was forced upon her by her filial affection. - -"No!" he groaned, "she is not to blame. I shall never see her more, -thank Heaven! and in time the recollection will die out." - -His eyes reverted to the picture, as this thought held him for the -moment, and he again laughed bitterly and cried aloud, while gazing at -the beautiful figure which inspiration and the work of his brush had -placed upon the canvas. - -"Die out, while she is there to renew my passion hour by hour, minute by -minute! Curse the picture!" he raged. "Why did I ever conceive the -vile thought?" - -He stepped to it and tore off the paper which covered the face. - -The next moment he had stepped back, startled and wondering at the -perfection of his art, as Lady Dellatoria's eyes seemed to be gazing -passionately into his. - -He shivered and turned away, holding one hand to his brow. - -"I am ill," he said, in a low, muttering tone, "unstrung, half wild. -Well, this shall be the first step toward a cure;" and, taking a large -Spanish knife from among the knick-knacks upon the table, he felt the -point and edge, stepped forward, and was in the act of thrusting the -blade through the canvas close to the frame, when the door-handle -rattled, and the grimy face of Keren-Happuch was thrust in. - -"She's come again," said the girl gleefully. - -"The lady who was here yesterday?" cried Dale, throwing the knife from -him. - -"No, sir; her!" cried the girl. "She's coming up now." - -She pointed to the canvas as she spoke, and Dale involuntarily turned to -see the counterfeit presentment of Lady Dellatoria looking at him from -the group with indignant scorn, and as if enraged at his mad passion for -the model whose steps were now heard as the girl slipped out. - -"It is fate!" muttered Dale, as the door was flung open, and the closely -veiled and cloaked figure stood before him. - -For some moments neither spoke. The model stood just within the closed -door, proud and imperious in her pose, and with the glint of her eyes -flashing through the thick veil, while, a prey to his emotion, Armstrong -strove to find words as the struggle within him continued. - -He would master himself, he thought. It was madness, and he called upon -his manhood to protect this woman, who trusted to him, from a repetition -of his last insult. - -"You have returned, then," he said to her coldly, but with his voice -trembling. - -"Yes, monsieur," she replied, in her peculiarly accented French. "It -was necessary. Monsieur wishes me to continue?" - -He made a sign toward the door at the other end of the studio, and she -seemed to hesitate, but the next moment she walked firmly across to the -room and disappeared, while Dale fastened the outer door. - -Then mechanically drawing the easel into its proper position in the -light, he took up palette and brushes, and stood gazing straight before -him, his nerves astrain, and pulses beating with a heavy dull throb. - -His back was to the entrance of his room, and with a mist before his -eyes he waited, ignorant of how the time passed till he heard the door -behind him open, and the rustling sound of the heavy cloak as it swept -over the rug-covered floor. - -Then, with every sense at its acutest pitch, he felt her approach till -she was close behind his chair on her way to the dais. - -The model stopped suddenly, and he turned to see that she was gazing -fixedly at the uncovered face upon the canvas, as if struck by the -intense gaze of the goddess's eyes. - -It was almost momentary, that pause. Then she continued her way to the -dais, and mounted it to resume her familiar attitude, and, once more, -Dale began to paint; a quarter of an hour before about to destroy, now -eagerly bent upon finishing the task, while the piercing eyes gleamed -through the veil, and seemed to pierce him. - -"It is fate!" he muttered, as those eyes fixed his, meeting them through -the veil; but was it lovingly tempting him, or watching him in dread--a -dread born of the doubt he inspired at the last visit? - -He could not tell, but everything of the past died away in that present, -and in a voice which he hardly knew as his own, he said softly-- - -"Why were you so angry with me last time?" - -There was no reply, but the eyes gleamed distrustfully through the veil. - -"You are angry still," he continued. "Was it so great an offence to ask -you to discard your veil?" - -"Monsieur is wasting time," was the reply, and he went on using his -brush angrily for a few minutes. - -"Tell me," he said at last, "why you are so obstinate? Do you not wish -me to see your face?" - -She shook her head quickly, and he watched her, telling himself that -there was something coquettish in the act. - -"But you will not refuse me now?" he said. "I beg--I pray of you--let -me see your face." - -"It is not possible. I do not wish you to know me again if we ever -meet." - -"Why not?" he said eagerly. "For Heaven's sake, do not be so distant -with me." - -"I come here at your wish, monsieur, and you pay me to be your model.-- -Monsieur insults me once more." - -"No!" he cried passionately, as he threw down palette and brush; "a man -cannot insult a woman he loves with all his soul." - -He took a step or two towards her, but with one quick movement, she -stooped and swung the great cloak about her shoulders, and, unseen by -him, caught up the knife he had so recently held. The next moment she -made for the inner room, but he intercepted her. - -"No, no!" he cried wildly. "You must not leave me again like this. -Listen: you will hear me. Once for all, you shall remove that veil." - -"I--will--not," she cried firmly. "Why does monsieur wish to see my -face?" - -"You, as a woman, know," he cried, in a low, excited voice. "It is of -no use. I must speak now. I tell you again, I love you." - -"It is not true!" she whispered. "You dare to tell me that, when I know -that it is not true. That is the woman whom you love, monsieur!" and -she pointed scornfully at the face upon the canvas. - -"No!" he cried, half startled by her manner, "I swear that you are -wrong." - -"It is her portrait, monsieur." - -"It is no one's portrait. Imagination, every stroke," he cried. "Now -let me see the face of the woman I really love." - -He raised one hand to snatch off the veil, but with a quick movement she -sprang from him, and, with her eyes gleaming through the film, flung one -white arm from the cloak, gave her wrist a turn, and he saw that she was -holding the great Spanish knife dagger-wise, with the point towards his -breast. - -"Don't come near me, or it will be your death," she panted. - -"Ah!" he said, with a half-laugh, as, stirred now to the deepest depths, -he bent forward trying to penetrate her disguise, but without avail; -"can you punish me so cruelly as that for loving you? Well, you have -made me yours, and it is my fate. Better death than the misery I have -suffered, the despair of losing you and not seeing you again." - -"It is a mockery!" she cried, and her voice now was strangely altered. -"A man cannot love a woman whose face he has not seen." - -"You know that is not true," he whispered, as he still advanced, and she -now began to retreat--"you know I love you with all my soul. I have -told you so, and you know it in your heart." - -"Keep back!" she cried huskily, as she retreated, keeping the -knife-point toward his breast. - -"No! Remove your veil." - -"Bah!" she cried contemptuously, and with her voice resuming its former -tone. "Go, monsieur; dwell upon and love your picture when I am gone." - -"No; I love you, the living, breathing embodiment. Now, if I die for -it, I will see your face." - -He stretched out one hand, and touched her veil, but it was tightly -knotted behind her head, and with her left hand she caught his fingers -and held them firmly, their warm contact sending a thrill through every -nerve. - -At the same moment, he felt the point of the knife touch his breast, but -he did not shrink, only struggled to free his hand. - -Then, as if moved by the same impulse, they remained motionless, gazing -into each other's eyes, and he felt her warm breath upon his lips. - -"Then you do love me?" she whispered in a voice that, in its soft -passionate tones, made every fibre vibrate in strange music to the -melody of her utterance. - -"More than life," he whispered back. "You see." - -A low mocking laugh came from her lips as she loosened her grasp, flung -up her hands, and the knife fell far away upon the floor. Then, with a -sudden movement, as he seized her waist and drew her to him, she threw -herself back, snatched off the veil, flung it upon the dais, and clasped -her arms about his neck. - -"Valentina!--You!" - -CHAPTER TWENTY. - -THE CONTRETEMPS. - -A mingling of rage, passion, disappointment, and delight swept over Dale -at the revelation. One moment he wondered at his blindness in not -divining long before that it was she; then at her daring recklessness, -and the skill with which she had played her part, deceiving him -completely to the very end. - -And as she gazed in his eyes, clasped then in his arms, yielding as he -did to what he told himself again was fate, a mystery which he could not -unravel, he asked himself the question, did he love her or did he not? -His passion had been for another woman, and paradoxically it was she -from whom he had literally lied, and from whom, had she come openly, he -would have turned in disgust. - -And yet how beautiful she was. What love and passion beamed from the -half-closed eyes that sought his, as her lips murmured words that told -him she was his at last, as he was hers, her very own; while, mastered -by her tenderness, he found no words then of angry reproach or blame. - -"Venus victrix." She had brought him to her feet, but there was no -sound of triumph in her tones. Every word was a caress, and he found -himself wondering that he could ever have treated her with the coldness -he had shown. - -"I knew you loved me," she murmured in his ear, "and that in your mad -belief in what you told yourself was your duty, you were punishing -yourself and me. It was a mere schoolboy friendship pledged years ago, -against which nature rebelled. For the first time in my unhappy life I -knew what it was to love, and knowing, as a woman soon divines, that you -loved me, I felt a new joy in my heart that I was so beautiful, and that -it pleased you, the only man I ever felt that I cared for--that I did -love, for I knew that you were mine as I was yours. And so I had no -hesitation about running all the risks I have, deceiving even Lady -Grayson, who watches me like a cat. I said in my heart that I would -dare all, even to degrading myself--no: it was no degradation, for it -was for the sake of him I loved. But tell me now; you did know me from -the beginning?" - -"I swear I had not the least idea," he said angrily. - -"You had not," she sighed; and then mockingly, "and, cruel to the last, -you began to love another as you thought. I saw it growing from the -first, and for a minute it made me angry, and ready to turn and revile -you, instead of carrying on the deceit; but a feeling of intense joy ran -through me, for was not all your loving passion for me--was I not -winning you to confess the love you always did feel, though blindly -thinking that you had conquered self? You did love me--did you not?" - -"Yes, I always loved you," he whispered, "and I fought so hard for both -our sakes." - -"And lost," she said with a laugh. "I have won. No, no," she whispered -caressingly, "don't repulse me now. You are so much to me. But yes, if -you will. I do not mind. Strike your poor slave if you wish; she will -never murmur or complain. Your blows would be like tender caresses to -me now, for your words have dragged me forth from an age of misery and -despair into a new life of hope and brightness and joy. You told me you -loved me with all your soul." - -"No, no," he cried angrily, in his last struggle for truth and honour; -"it is not true. It was all an imaginary passion for an imaginary -being." - -"Am I an imaginary being?" she whispered, as she wreathed her arms about -him and drew him to her breast. "No, no; it was all a solemn truth, the -outspeaking of your heart to the only woman you love. You could not lie -to me, my hero--my idol. What is the world to us, Armstrong? You -cannot retract your words. I have won you--my own--my own. You can -never leave me now." - -As those words left her lips, Dale started from her arms, for a carriage -had stopped, and a heavy double knock resounded through the house. - -Valentina stood listening as Dale crossed rapidly to the door, unlocked -it, and returned, after relocking it, silently. - -"Well?" she said calmly, "a visitor? Send him away." - -"Your husband," he whispered. - -"Bah!" she cried contemptuously. "The man the world calls my husband-- -the wretch who bought me as he would some trinket that gratified his -eye." - -"But the risk--the scandal," he whispered. "For your sake--there, -dearest, for your sake," he whispered, as he clasped her to his breast. - -"Yes, you do love me," she said softly. - -"There, quick! in there! He must not know." - -"And why?" she said calmly, as she clung to him. "I do not fear him; -and as for you," she cried, with a look of pride, "you are brave and -strong. Let him come: kill him as you would some wretched snake." - -He gazed at her half in wonder, half in horror, as she laughed -mockingly, but there was a look of intense hatred and disgust in her -eyes which told him how truly earnest were her words--how great her -loathing for this man. - -At that moment there was a tapping at the door, and Dale crossed to it -quickly. - -"Yes?" he said. - -"This gent would like to see you, sir," came in Keren-Happuch's voice, -and a card was shot under the door. - -He caught it up, and hesitated a moment. - -"Not at home," he said. - -"Please, sir, I said as you was." - -"Then show him up," said Dale desperately, and darting across to where -Valentina stood, he pointed to the inner door. - -"Quick!" he cried. - -"For your sake, yes," she said, smiling calmly enough; but as he threw -open the door, she flung one arm about his neck, and pressed her lips to -his before he closed it upon her. - -Then crossing quickly, he unfastened the other, caught up palette and -brush, and dragged his great canvas round with its face to the wall. - -He had not a moment to spare, for as he faced round, firm and defiant -now, ready for anything that might come, Keren-Happuch entered, looked -round wide-eyed and wondering for the model, and held the door wide for -the Conte to enter. - -Her position and the glance she gave round were not lost upon Armstrong, -who frowned at her so severely that she hurried out. - -"The crisis!" thought Dale, growing firm now that he was face to face -with danger; and his eyes involuntarily measured his visitor's physique. - -The Conte's first words set him wondering whether they were genuine or -part of a plan laid by the wily Italian. For his face was smooth and -smiling, and he came forward offering his hand in the frankest manner. - -"Ah! my dear Mr. Dale," he cried, "it is a pleasure to see you again." - -Armstrong could not help taking the hand, but his grasp was cold and -limp as that of his visitor. - -Then, unasked, the Conte placed his glass in his eye, took out a -cigarette, and gave it a wave. - -"May I?" he said. - -Armstrong bowed coldly, and the little, wrinkled, elderly-looking man -struck a scented fusee, lit his cigarette, glanced round and seated -himself. - -"And how do the fine arts march?" he said cheerily. "By the way," he -continued, without waiting to be answered, "my dear Mr. Dale, I was -close by, and I thought I would call to ask if you have reconsidered -that decision of yours?" - -"My decision?" said Dale, following his example. - -"Yes; about her ladyship's portrait. We were discussing it this -morning. I believe I introduced the subject, but her ladyship took to -it eagerly. You will go on with it?" - -"Surely, my lord, there are plenty of better artists in London who will -be glad to undertake the commission," said Dale quietly. - -"Perhaps so, but you began the sketch, and we were so well satisfied -that we wish you to continue it." - -"Then he suspects nothing," Armstrong said to himself; and for the -moment he felt ready to agree to the proposal. But directly after, a -suspicious idea came to him. Suppose this were a deeply laid plan to -entice him to the Conte's place, so that an opportunity might be -afforded for a discovery? - -He had gone through so much excitement of late that his brain felt -confused, and he was unable to calculate coolly. At the first he had -decided in his own mind that the Conte must be aware of his wife's -visits to the studio, and had now tracked her there. All this talk then -was for some ulterior reason, and in all probability he was waiting for -an excuse to search the place, or else to trap her when she tried to -leave. For aught the young artist knew, there might be half-a-dozen -spies about the place, waiting to see her go, and his brow grew rugged -with the intensity of his thoughts. - -The Conte rose from his seat, and Dale started up. - -"No, no; don't move," said the Conte. "I was only about to look round -while you thought the matter over. Ah! you object? Good. I will -reserve myself for your show day. Pardon, a thousand times." - -He resumed his seat, smiling, while in agony Dale thought of the great -picture not twenty feet from where his visitor had stood. - -"My proposal troubles you, I see; but why let it, my friend? Let us -consider it as men of the world--as we did at first. It will do you -good as an artist--it will do me good amongst my friends, for I shall be -proud to see the face of my beautiful wife--a lady of society--upon the -Academy walls. We made our little arrangement--I will not insult you by -talking of money--and all was well. Then came this little pique. I -affronted you by some thoughtless remark, and you retired." - -Dale was about to speak, but the Conte interrupted him. - -"One word, my friend, and I have done. It is my wife's wish that the -picture should be finished; it is mine. I apologise as one gentleman to -another. Now, say that I am pardoned, and that you will do it." - -The temptation was terribly strong. This man begged him to come; it -meant endless freedom, the run of the house, and constant meetings with -Valentina; but Dale's manly instincts rose in revolt against so -degrading an intimacy. He and the Conte could only be deadly enemies, -and he rose slowly from his seat. - -"It is impossible, sir," he said. "I thank you for your consideration -and your apology, but I must hold to my decision. I cannot--I will not -commence the portrait again." - -"You are too hasty, Mr. Dale. Take time. With your permission I will -smoke another cigarette. Let us talk of other things." - -"No, sir," replied Armstrong; "let us talk of this, and let me tell you -plainly that I cannot and will not undertake this commission." - -"But, my dear friend, you did undertake it." - -"And repented almost at once," said Armstrong bitterly. - -"You English--I mean you Americans--are too hard and decisive," said the -Conte, with a smile and shrug. "Ah, as you know, everything depends -upon the diplomat. I am a poor ambassador. I should have brought -Madame the Contessa here to plead to you." - -Armstrong could not suppress a start, and he looked keenly at the Conte, -whose eyes seemed to be fixed searchingly upon his, as if to read the -secret thoughts of his heart. And now he felt sure that all this was -subterfuge--a means of gaining time for some reason. He had tracked his -wife there, and was waiting for the moment when the eruption ought to -break forth; and a quarrel with a foreigner and for such a cause could -only mean one thing. - -"Ah," said the Conte gaily, "the mention of madame has, I see, its -effect. Say, if she comes and pleads you will yield?" - -"This man is too subtle for me," thought Armstrong. "He is playing with -and torturing me before he strikes. Heavens! what have I done to bring -me into such a position?" - -"Come, you are giving way," cried the Conte gaily, "and I may go back -soon--after our friendly chat, as you people call it, and tell her -ladyship that I have made our peace." - -"No, sir," began Armstrong, keeping well upon his guard, in the full -conviction that there was another motive for the visit, and determined -to strike his visitor down if he approached the inner room. But he was -interrupted again. - -"By the way--in passing--apropos of portraits--Lady Grayson's--is it -commenced?" - -"Lady Grayson's?" - -"Yes; you know her; you met her at our house. My wife's bosom friend." - -"I remember Lady Grayson, of course, perfectly." - -"And you are painting her portrait?" - -"I regret to say that you have been misinformed, sir." - -"But--how strange! Lady Grayson told us that she was going to ask you -to undertake the commission. Of course--yes--and she said, laughingly-- -I remember now, perfectly--that she should visit you at your studio, be -a most perfect sitter, and that there would be no giant--no, no, it was -ogre of a husband--to pass criticisms and offend the artist." - -He laughed merrily as he spoke, and twisted his cane about in a peculiar -way, suggesting to Armstrong that he meant to strike with it at first; -and then, as he saw a gold garter-like band around it about six inches -from the knob, his heart gave one throb, for he felt certain that there -was a keen rapier-like blade concealed within. - -But he spoke quite calmly. - -"Lady Grayson has been premature in her announcement, Conte. I am under -no promise to paint any such portrait, neither shall I undertake the -commission." - -"Body of Bacchus!" cried the Conte, laughing, "how droll! Truth is more -strange than romance, as you people say. Come, now, confess you have -been too scrupulous--too secretive.--My dear Lady Grayson, this is -wonderful. Your name was on our lips." - -For as he was speaking, Keren-Happuch ushered in the fashionably dressed -woman, gave Dale an imploring look, which plainly said, "Forgive me," -glanced at the fastened door, next at the dais, and then disappeared. - -"Ah, Conte, you here! Mr. Dale, pray forgive me for coming unannounced. -I want to make a petition--to lay an appeal before you." - -She held out her hand with a most winning smile, and then turned and -shook hands with the Conte. - -"What he has been waiting for," thought Dale--"her coming--she, his -mistress, to be a witness of his own wife's shame." - -There was an angry, determined look in his eyes. A minute before, a -feeling of misery and despair troubled him. There was a sensation akin -to pity in his breast for the man who was being basely deceived; but now -rage took its place, compunction was gone, and he felt hard as steel, as -he prepared himself for the fight, determined at all hazards to save -Valentina from such a humiliation as this. - -The thoughts flew like lightning through his brain as, in her most silky -tones, Lady Grayson addressed him. - -"May I lay my petition before you now, Mr. Dale?" - -"Oh, I will not be _de trop_," cried the Conte. "I am going. My dear -Mr. Dale, you will think over that, and write to me, I am sure?" - -"I assure you, sir," began Dale; and then he bit his lip savagely, for -in a playful, girlish way, Lady Grayson had stepped aside, ostensibly -that the gentlemen might speak together; really to obtain a glimpse of -the picture on the easel. She succeeded, and turned back directly. - -"I beg pardon," she cried. "Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Dale; it was very -rude." - -Their eyes met, and he saw a look of malicious triumph in hers, which -told him that this woman had recognised the face upon the canvas, and -that her suspicion of the Contessa coming to sit for him was confirmed. - -"I do so love pictures!" she cried. "But you need not go, Conte. I -will stand aside till you have finished with Mr. Dale." - -"Conte Dellatoria has finished his proposal to me, madam," said -Armstrong firmly. "I regret, sir, that I must hold to my decision." - -"Oh!" cried Lady Grayson, "don't say that you have refused to continue -my dearest friend's portrait!" - -"Yes, madam, I have declined decisively." - -"Oh, but that is too cruel," cried Lady Grayson, looking quickly round -the studio; and once more there was a look of triumph in her eyes which -met his sparkling with malice, as they both cast them on the same -object, which he too saw for the first time. - -The thick veil Valentina had snatched off, lay upon the edge of the -dais, where she had thrown it, and a chill of horror ran through -Armstrong as he felt that they were in this woman's power, even if he -were wrong, and she had not been brought, as he had imagined. - -Then a fresh idea struck him. He was perhaps mistaken, and his feeling -of rage increased. It was an assignation; they had arranged to meet -there for some reason--why they had chosen his studio, he could not -divine. - -"I am so sorry," said Lady Grayson, after an awkward pause. "It augurs -so badly for my success." - -"Shall I leave you to discuss the matter, my dear Lady Grayson? Mr. -Dale is a tyrant--an emperor among artists. As for me, I am crushed." - -"No, no; you will stay and help me to plead. My dear Mr. Dale, do not -be so cruel. I do so want to be on the line this year, and if you would -consent to paint a poor, forlorn, helpless widow, I cannot tell you how -grateful I should be." - -"It is impossible, madam," said Armstrong coldly, but with a burning -feeling of rage against his visitors seething in his breast. It was an -assignation then, but Lady Grayson had divined Valentina's presence, and -he had seen her glance again and again at the further door. He was in a -dilemma too: for if he refused this woman's prayer, she would perhaps -spitefully declare all she knew to the husband. But he cast that aside. -If she did not speak now, she would at some other time, and in his then -frame of mind he could only fight. He could not fence. - -"Impossible!--you hear this cruel man, Conte? he is a tyrant indeed. -Mr. Dale, is it really in vain to plead?" - -"I tell you again, madam, it is impossible." - -"But if I wait a week--a month--any time you like?" - -"My answer would only be the same, madam, as I have given Conte -Dellatoria. I can paint no more portraits for any one. I have, I think -I may say, painted my last." - -"I am disappointed," she said, giving him a peculiar look. "But, no-- -you will not refuse me. Come, Mr. Dale--for the Exhibition. Only this -one portrait at your own terms, and I will promise to preserve secrecy." - -The malicious look in her eyes intensified as she said these words, -telling him plainly that she knew all, but that the Conte was, after -all, still in ignorance. - -His answer would have been a promise, for the sake of the unhappy woman -within that room; but at that moment there was a sharp rap at the door, -Keren-Happuch opened it, and blurted out-- - -"Oh, if you please, sir, here's that there lady as you began to paint." - -Dale turned upon her dumbfounded. - -"Who?" - -"That there countess, sir, from Portland Place." - -The Conte turned excitedly to Lady Grayson. - -"She must not find me here," he whispered. - -"Show the lady up," said Armstrong recklessly, for, whoever it might be, -it would rid him of his visitors. - -"Yes, sir;" and the door closed. - -"My dear Mr. Dale," said the Conte quickly, "I must speak plainly. I -have reasons for not wishing to meet my wife here this morning. You -will not ask me to explain, but let me step in here for a few minutes -till she is gone. Remain here and meet her," he said in a low voice to -Lady Grayson, and as steps were heard upon the stairs, he stepped -quickly to the inner door. - -CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. - -THE RUSE. - -There was a puzzled look in Lady Grayson's face as Dale sprang at the -Conte, and swung him round, sending him staggering from the door, before -which he placed himself, his face dark with wrath. - -For the moment, the Italian looked utterly astounded. Then, with a -fierce ejaculation, he made at Dale with his cane raised, and his -countenance convulsed. - -"Dog!" he muttered in Italian; and the artist clenched his fist, ready -to proceed to any extremities now in Lady Dellatoria's defence. - -But Lady Grayson flew between them, whispering to the Conte eagerly, and -Dale caught a word or two here and there-- - -"Scandal--mistake--my sake--meet her now." The Conte drew himself up -and pressed Lady Grayson's hand, as he gave her a significant look. -Then, veiling his anger with a peculiar smile, he turned to Dale. - -"Lady Grayson is right," he said, with grave courtesy; "it was a -mistake. I was quite in the wrong, Mr. Dale. I ought not to have -attempted to break in upon your privacy. We all have our little -secrets, eh? There, it is quite past. An accident, that Lady -Dellatoria should be calling now when we are here?" - -"Yes--a very strange accident," said Lady Grayson, with a malicious look -at the artist. - -"It does not matter," continued the Count. "All this contretemps -because ladies are vain enough to wish the world to see how beautiful -they are. But she is long coming, this wife of mine." - -No one spoke for a few moments, all standing listening for the steps -upon the stairs, and the rustling sound of the Contessa's dress, but -everything was perfectly still, and at last, with a shrug of the -shoulders, the Conte turned to Armstrong. - -"Is the lady in some ante-room waiting for our departure?" - -"No," said Dale sharply. - -"Because we would relieve you of our company, but we would rather meet -the lady now." - -"Of course," cried Lady Grayson. "We do not wish our visit to be -misconstrued." - -"I do not understand it," said Dale; and going to the bell, he rang -sharply. Then once more there was silence, till shuffling steps were -heard, then a tap at the door, and Keren-Happuch entered in answer to a -loud "Come in," wiping her hands upon her apron, and with her face -scarlet. - -"Where is the lady you announced just now?" said Dale sharply. - -"Plee, sir, she's gone, sir." - -"Gone?" - -"Yes, sir." - -Lady Grayson uttered a low sigh of satisfaction. - -"What did she say?" - -"Nothin', sir." - -"Did you tell her that this lady and gentleman were here?" - -"Oh no, sir. I never said nothin' to her, sir." - -"But she said she would call again?" - -"That she didn't, sir. She couldn't. She just comed and goed," -faltered the girl. - -"But did she not hear our voices in the studio?" - -"No, sir; she couldn't. Why, she never come no further than the -street-door mat, and you can't hear no talking in here, even if you -stand just outside." - -"Oh, you have tried?" said the Conte laughingly. "That I hain't, sir, -but I've seed missus more'n once." - -"That will do." - -"Yes, sir," said Keren-Happuch, but Dale checked her. - -"Don't go," he said. - -"Ah, well then, Mr. Dale, as the lady is not coming up to see us, we -will go and see her: Mahomet to the mountain, eh! my dear Lady Grayson? -May I see you to your carriage?" - -"I have no carriage here," she said quickly. "Yes, we had better go." - -"After our double failure to-day; but Mr. Dale will alter his decision -on our behalf. Good day, my dear modern representative of Fra Lippo -Lippi. It is grand to be a handsome young artist," the Conte continued, -as he took a step toward the dais, and raised something on the end of -his cane, "supplicated by beautiful ladies to transfer their features to -canvas; but you should warn them not to leave their veils behind when -they take refuge in another room. Look, my dear Lady Grayson;" and he -held the veil toward her on the end of his cane, "thick--secretive-- -admirable for a disguise.--Come." - -He tossed the veil back on to the dais, and opened the door for his -companion to pass out, while Dale stood fuming with rage, and Lady -Grayson gave him a mocking look as he advanced. - -"Good morning, Mr. Dale," she said laughingly, and then in a -whisper--"secret for secret, my handsome friend. You and I cannot play -at telling tales out of school." - -"Lor', if it ain't like being at the theayter," thought Keren-Happuch, -as the door was shut, and Dale crossed quickly to reopen it, and stand -listening till the front door closed. Then he came back to where the -little maid stood waiting, while, faintly heard, came a call from below. - -"Keren--Hap--puch!" - -"Comin', mum. Please, Mr. Dale, sir, missus is a callin' of me; may I -go?" - -"Who was the lady who came just now?" Keren-Happuch writhed slightly, -as she looked in a frightened way in the artist's face. - -"Do you hear me? I said, Who was the lady who came just now? It was -not the Contessa?" - -"No, sir." - -"Was it that--that American lady?" - -"What! her with the pretty face, who went away crying, sir? Oh no; it -wasn't her." - -The girl's words sent a sting through him. - -"Then who was it?" - -"Please, Mr. Dale, sir, I don't like to tell you." - -"Tell me this instant, girl," he cried, catching her fiercely by the -arm. - -"Oh, don't, please, Mr. Dale," she whimpered. "You frighten me." - -"Then speak." - -"Yes, sir; but I shall holler if you pinch my arm, and that 'Talian -girl'll hear me." - -"Who was it, then?" - -"Please, sir, it was a cracker." - -"What?" - -"A bit of a fib, sir. I knowed you wanted to get rid of them two 'cause -you'd got her as you're so fond on shut up in there." - -"Silence!" - -"Yes, sir, but missus can't hear; she's down in the kitchen." - -"Then nobody came?" - -"No, sir; I thought if I come and said that, you'd like it, because it -would send them away. I've often done it for missus when some one's -been bothering her for money." - -"Go down," said Dale, writhing beneath the sense of degradation he felt -at being under this obligation to the poor little slut before him. - -"Yes, Mr. Dale, sir; but please don't you be cross with me. I don't -mind missus, but it hurts me if you are." - -"Go down." - -"Yes, sir," said the girl, with a sob; and the tears began to make faint -marks on her dirty face. "I wouldn't ha' done it, sir, on'y I knowed -you was in love with her and wanted to be alone." - -"Poor Cornel!" muttered Dale as he turned away. "Fallen so low as this! -If you only knew!" - -"Please, Mr. Dale, sir, have I done very wrong?" she whimpered. - -"No; go down now." - -"Keren--Hap--puch!" - -"Comin', mum," cried the girl, thrusting her head out of the door, and -then turning back "Oh, thankye, sir. I don't mind now." - -Dale fastened the door after her; and as he turned back, that of the -inner room opened, and Valentina came out with her eyes flashing and a -joyful look upon her face, as she took his arm and nestled to him. - -"We must never forget that poor, brave little drudge, dear," she -whispered fondly. "Don't look so serious. All that is nothing to us." - -"Nothing?" he said, as he bent down, fascinated by the beautiful eyes -which gazed so tenderly into his. - -"Nothing. I am glad they came, to show you how little cause for -compunction you have. You see what she is--what the wretched woman is -who gives me her sickly kisses and calls me her friend." She clung to -him, and passed her soft white hand over his brow as she looked into his -eyes, her voice growing gentle like the cooing of some dove, as she -almost whispered-- - -"I am going now for awhile, but when I am gone don't think of me as a -mad, reckless woman, abandoned to her passion, false to her husband and -her oaths. I never loved but you, Armstrong: I shall never love -another. Try and think of me as one who was forced into a marriage with -that despicable wretch who in one week taught me to loathe him; and till -I saw you I was the wretched being whose life was void, a kind of gilded -doll upon which he hung his jewels, and whom he paraded before his -guests, while in private my life was a mockery. Wife? By law, yes, -till we can break the tie, and then you will take me to your heart, -dear, away from all that black despairing life, to a new one all delight -and joy. For I shall be with you, my brave, noble--husband! May I call -you husband then?" - -She sank upon her knees, clasped her arms about him, and laid her cheeks -against his hands, murmuring softly-- - -"If you will take me for your wife, dearest. If not, I should be always -happy as your slave." - -He would have been more than man if he had not raised the beautiful -appealing woman to his breast, and held her tightly there. - -"I love you--I love you!" she murmured, as her soft, swimming eyes gazed -in his, "and it is misery to leave you now. But there is all that new -joy in my heart to keep me waiting and hopeful till I come again." - -"But the risk--for you?" he said. - -"Risk?" she laughed softly. "You will protect me. I must go now, and -you will wait till your poor Italian model is here once more--she whom -you love so well." - -He clasped her to his heart, and held her till she faintly struggled to -be free, and then laughingly covered her face with the thick veil her -husband had thrown down. - -"There," she said merrily. "Now I must go. Back to my faithful Jaggs." - -"What!" - -"He is my slave--`The Emperor,' he says you call him. He has been my -slave from the first day you sent him to the house. He told me -everything about you in answer to my questions regarding the portrait -you had painted from memory, and then--`Armstrong does love me with all -his heart' I said to myself, and I was ready to risk everything to win -that love." - -"And did he suggest that you should be my model?" said Dale. - -"No; that was my idea, when he told me how hard you were pressed. He -helped me, and I came. And now, once more, I must go. It will not be -like life until I am here again." - -She gave him her white hands, which he held passionately to his lips. -Then, covering them hastily with her common gloves, she drew her cloak -about her. - -"One moment," he whispered. "The address? Where are you now--for -this?" - -"Always in your heart," she said, in a passionate whisper. Then, "A -rivederla," she said aloud, and was gone. - -"Poor Cornel!" sighed Dale, as he sank into a chair. "Forgive me, dear. -She is right; a boy and girl's pure gentle love, of which I am not -worthy. It is fate, dear, and this is really love--a love for which a -man might sacrifice honour--even sell his very soul." - -So he said, for it has been written of old--"Love is blind." - -CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. - -A LAST EFFORT. - -"Corny, I've no patience with you," cried Dr. Thorpe, as they sat at -dinner in their hotel with a guest that evening--Joe Pacey. - -"Not to-night, dear," she said, with a quiet, grave smile.--"He has very -little patience with me when he comes home tired from the hospitals," -she continued, turning to Pacey. "He works too hard." - -"Yes: he does seem a glutton over work; but we must work hard nowadays -to succeed." - -"Hah, you are right," said the young doctor. "It was all very well a -hundred years ago. Plenty of medical men went through life then without -half the knowledge I possess, while I'm a perfect baby to your big -doctors." - -"No, you are not, dear," said Cornel quietly. "You know that you stand -first among our young medical men." - -"Humph! not saying much that; but this is begging the question. I shall -want to stay in England another three months, and, as I was saying, the -Hudsons go back by the next boat. I've been to the office: you can have -a cabin, so you had better accompany them." - -"No, dear, I shall stay and go back with you." - -Thorpe pushed his chair away from the table impatiently. - -"My dear sister, where is your pride?" - -"My dear brother, where is your sympathy?" - -"How can I have sympathy for a girl who is so blind to her own dignity! -Now, my dear Pacey, do you not agree with me that my sister is behaving -very foolishly?" - -"No," said Pacey, holding his glass of wine to the light, shutting one -eye and scowling at it with the other--"no, sir, I don't." - -"Thank you, Mr. Pacey," said Cornel, laying her hand upon the table, so -that he could take it in his and press it warmly. - -"Can't kiss it before company," he said, in his abrupt way. "Please -take it as being done--or owing." - -"You are as bad over the scamp as she is," cried Thorpe sharply. - -"Come, come, doctor," cried Pacey; "you are too hard. If Armstrong were -suffering from a bodily disease, you would stand by him." - -"Of course. But this--" - -"Is a mental disease," cried Pacey, "so why blame your sister for -standing by the patient?" - -"Bah! Don't talk like that. I haven't patience with her. I thought -her firm, self-reliant, and proud of her position as a woman." - -"Quite right," said Pacey, turning and smiling at Cornel. "She's all -that." - -"I join issue," cried Thorpe. "No: she is neither one nor the other." - -"And I say that she is all three," cried Pacey, bringing his fist down -on the table with a thump, which drew the waiters' attention. "I beg -pardon," he said hastily. "No, I don't. I'm not ashamed of my -earnestness." - -"Just eight," said Thorpe, looking at his watch. "I've a meeting to -attend. You will stop and talk to my sister?" - -"Of course." - -Ten minutes later they were alone, and Cornel's manner changed. - -"You will not mind my brother's manner to you?" she said earnestly. - -"Not I," replied Pacey bluffly. "He's mad against Dale, naturally. -Wouldn't be a good brother if he were not. I'm mad against him, and get -worse; every day." - -"But tell me now--what news have you for me?" Pacey looked at her with -pitying thoughtfulness, and then said gravely-- - -"You have trusted me thoroughly since the first day we met, and made me -your friend." - -"Completely," she said earnestly. - -"And a friend would be nothing unless sincere." - -"No." - -"I have no news, then, that is good." - -Cornel sighed, and rested her head upon her hand. - -"Can nothing be done?" she said at last. "Oh! it is too dreadful to let -his whole career be blasted like this! Mr. Pacey, you are his friend; -pray, pray, help me! Tell me what to do." - -Pacey's brow wrinkled so that he looked ten years older, and he sat for -some time with his eyes averted. - -At last he spoke. - -"I know what I ought to say to you as your friend." - -"Yes; what?" she cried eagerly; but Pacey shook his head. - -"Nothing but--be strong and bear your cruel disappointment like a true -woman, proud of her dignity." - -"I could bear all that," she said piteously, "even if it broke my heart, -but I cannot bear the knowledge that the boy with whom I walked hand in -hand as a child, grew up with as if he were my own brother, and whose -child-love ripened into a sincere affection, should drift away like -this. Mr. Pacey--this woman! I know how beautiful she is, and how she -has ensnared him. I ceased to wonder when we stood face to face. I -know too what influence she has, but nothing but horror and misery can -result from it all, and it cuts me to the heart to think of what he will -suffer--of the bitter repentance to come." - -Pacey sighed. - -"To me, night and day, it is as if he were drowning--being swept away; -and if--utterly worn out--I sleep for a few minutes, I wake up with a -start, for his hands seem to be stretched out to me to save him before -it is too late." - -Pacey was silent still as he sat with his arms resting upon his knees, -and his head bent, gazing at the carpet. - -At last he looked up, to meet her appealing eyes fixed on his. - -"Yes," he said, and he took a long deep breath: "there is no other way." - -"You--you have thought of something?" she cried eagerly. - -"It is a forlorn hope," he replied. "I ought not to advise it, and your -brother will blame me, and tell me I am not acting as an honest friend." - -"The danger sweeps away all ideas of worldly custom, Mr. Pacey," she -cried with animation, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed; and as he -gazed at her, the artist mentally said that if his friend could see the -woman he had so cruelly jilted, now, he would humbly ask her to pardon -him, and take him back to her heart. - -"Yes," he said firmly, "this is not time to study etiquette. Go to him, -then. Don't look upon it as sinking your womanly dignity, but as a last -effort to save the man you once loved from a deadly peril." - -"Yes; and when I go," said Cornel faintly, "what can I say more than I -have said?" - -"Say nothing, child. If your face, and your reproachful forgiving eyes -do not bring him to your feet, come away, and go down upon your knees to -thank God for saving you from a man not worthy of a second thought." - -CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. - -TOO LATE. - -"And my poor painting," said Armstrong, smiling, as Valentina, cloaked -and ready to go once more, still clung to him--"not a step farther;" and -he unlocked the door. - -"No," she whispered softly, "not a step farther," and she looked up -through her thick veil in his saddened face. "Let fate be kind to us -and the work go on for years and years." - -"Until I am old and grey." - -"And I a bent, withered creature," she whispered. "No; you will never -be old and grey in my eyes, but always the same as now. Can you say -that to me?" - -She laid her hands upon his shoulders, and forced him back, so that she -could gaze searchingly in his eyes. - -"Yes!" he cried passionately. "You know only too well." - -"Yes, I know it well," she murmured. "And it shall go on and on. What -is the praise of a fickle public worth? It is your masterpiece, but -what of that? It might bring you fame and fortune, but it has already -brought us love that can know no change." - -"That can know no change, dearest. Now you must go, or you will be -breaking faith with me again to-morrow, and you have made me so that I -cannot live without you now." - -"Yes, once more," she sighed, "I must go--back to my gilded prison." - -She clung to him fondly again, and her voice was very soft and tender, -as she rested her brow upon his breast. - -"When will you say to me--`Stay; go back no more?' Armstrong, this life -is killing me. End all the miserable trickery and subterfuge. That -woman is planning and plotting to take my place. Once it roused up all -my pride and hatred; now all that is past. Let him sue for his divorce -if Lady Grayson wishes, and then I shall have my revenge: for he will -laugh in her false, deceitful face. Marry her?--Not he.--What is it, -dearest?" - -He had started back, and as she raised her eyes, she saw that he was -looking angrily at something behind her. - -She turned slowly, calling upon herself for readiness to meet the face -of her husband, as she believed, but it was Cornel standing just within -the doorway, flushed, proud, and stern, and she uttered a sigh of -relief. - -"A domani, signore," she said quietly to Armstrong, and then turned and -took a step toward the door, but Cornel raised her hand, and the proud, -haughty-looking figure shrank back a step or two in surprise. - -"Stop!" said Cornel firmly; and she closed the door behind. "I wish to -speak to you both." - -"Cornel!" cried Armstrong, in a low and excited voice, "this is madness. -For Heaven's sake, go. Have you no delicacy--no shame?" - -"You ask me that!" she cried scornfully; and he shrank from her -indignant eyes. "Man, where is your own delicacy?--woman, where is your -shame? I claim the right--in the name of truth and honour--to come and -upbraid you both." - -Valentina made a gesture with her hands, and turned to Armstrong to say -in French-- - -"What does the strange lady mean?" - -Cornel took a step forward, with her eyes flashing. - -"Mean, Lady Dellatoria!" she cried loudly; and her rival started and -drew herself up. - -"Cornel! Silence, for Heaven's sake." - -"You invoke Heaven?" she cried; and she turned from him with a look of -disgust and scorn. "It means," she cried, "that this is no scene in -amateur theatricals played by your set, but real life. You are face to -face with me--the woman whose love you have outraged, whose life you -have wrecked as well as his. And for what? Your pastime for a few -weeks." - -"No!" said Valentina, throwing back her head and seizing Armstrong's -hand, to hold it tightly between her own. "He is mine--my love for -ever. I told you, when you came and defied me, that I could laugh at -your girlish efforts to separate us--for it was fate. There, you have -tracked me down and seen; now go." - -"Yes, I have tracked you down and seen, and you throw off your -contemptible disguise--this paltry cloaking and veiling. Armstrong, is -this the type of the boasted British woman--an example to the world?" - -"Cornel, silence! Pray go!" - -"Not yet. I have a right here in the home of my affianced husband. I -find him being dragged to ruin and despair by a heartless creature, -devoid of love as she is of shame." - -"You lie!" cried Valentina fiercely, as she made a quick movement toward -Cornel, but Armstrong held her back. "Yes," she said, calming as -quickly as she had flashed into rage; "poor child, she is half mad with -misery and disappointment. I will not speak--but pity." - -Cornel held out her hands to Armstrong as Lady Dellatoria half turned -away and linked her fingers upon his arm. - -"Before it is too late, Armstrong," said Cornel softly. "No word of -reproach shall ever come from those who love you." - -He shook his head. - -"Listen, dear," she whispered, but her voice thrilled both. "I come to -you a weak woman, but strong in my armour of love and truth. They tell -me it is lowering, weak, and contemptible--that I am utterly lost to a -woman's sense of dignity and shame. But they do not know my love for -you--yes, my love for you, I say it even before this creature, who -cannot know the depth and truth of a true woman's love--I come, I say, -once again to plead, to beg of you to come. Let her go back to her own -people; come you to yours, before it is too late." - -"It is too late, girl," said Valentina gently. "I forgive you all you -have said in ignorance that my love is stronger, more womanly, than -yours. In Heaven's sight this is my husband now. We sorrow for you, -and can pity. But go now, and leave us in peace. I tell you again--it -is too late." - -"Yes," said Cornel, with a piteous sigh. "God forgive you, Armstrong! -I am beaten." Then, as if inspired, her eyes flashed, and the colour -left her cheeks, and she cried wildly, "Yes, it is too late." There -were voices on the stairs coming plainly to them, for Cornel had in -ignorance left the door unlatched, so that the sounds were -uninterrupted. - -"He's got a lady with him." - -"I know, girl. Stand aside. Do you know who I am?" - -"Yes, sir; Count Delly-tory, sir." - -"Yes!" cried Cornel, with a wail of horror; "her husband. Then it is -indeed too late." - -"No!" cried Valentina fiercely; "your opportunity for revenge." - -She drew back, and stood there erect and proud, with defiance flashing -through her thick veil as the Conte entered, quickly followed by Lady -Grayson. A heavy, gold-topped, ebony stick was in his hand, his lips -were compressed, and it was plain to see in his pallid face and dilated -nostrils that he was struggling with suppressed passion. - -He was making straight for Armstrong when his eyes fell upon Cornel, who -stood now white and calm, as if ready to interpose. Then he looked -sharply at the cloaked and veiled figure just on the artist's right. - -He stopped in astonishment, confused, and as if the supply of vital -force which had urged him on had suddenly been checked. - -It was Armstrong's opportunity. A few carelessly spoken, contemptuous -utterances as to the meaning of this intrusion and the like would have -sufficed to send the Conte back, mortified, and in utter ignorance, to -vent his rage upon Lady Grayson, who, in her malignant desire to cast -down her dearest confidante and friend from her throne, had brought him -on there to be a witness of one of his wife's secret meetings with her -lover, such as she had vowed to him were taking place. But Armstrong, -in utter scorn of all subterfuge, stood there manly and ready to meet -the man in full defiance, come what might. - -A terrible silence followed, of moments that felt to all like hours, -while each waited for others to speak. - -It was Cornel's opportunity too, to bring her rival to her knees and -sweep her for ever from her path, and Valentina felt it as she stood -there with her teeth clenched and face convulsed behind the thick veil. -For, after all, in spite of her bravery and readiness to defy the man -whose name she bore, she was a woman still, and instinctively shrank -from the denouement, knowing as she did that a terrible scene must -follow; and another later, in spite of English laws, for it was an -Italian pitted against a man who would dare all. - -But Cornel remained silent, and Lady Grayson scanned all in turn, ending -by fixing her eyes upon the great canvas whose back was toward them -where they stood. - -"I--I beg pardon--some mistake," stammered the Conte. "I did not know -that--Curse you," he whispered to Lady Grayson, and relapsing in his -excitement into broken English, "You make me with you silly cock-bull -tale a fool." - -Armstrong still made no movement, said no word, but Lady Grayson read -him as if he were an open page laid before her, and her eyes twinkled -and flashed. - -The keen-witted American girl saw it too, and with all her gentleness -and love, she possessed the quick perception and readiness of a people -born in a clearer air and warmer clime. In those moments, with all her -hatred and scorn for the woman who was the blight upon her life, she -shrank in all the tenderness of her nature from seeing her humbled to -the very dust. More; she grasped the horror of the situation; how that, -beneath the weak flippancy of the man of fashion, there smouldered the -hot passions of his countrymen--passions which, once roused, are as hot -and destructive as the lava of their great volcano. She saw in -imagination, blows, and Armstrong injuring or injured, either being too -horrible to be borne. Lastly, she grasped Lady Grayson's plan. - -"It is for his sake," she said to herself, "not for hers;" and as, -apparently prompted by a whisper from Lady Grayson, the blood flushed -into the Conte's face again and he fixed his eyes on his wife, Cornel -stepped forward and held out her hand. - -"Good-bye, Mr. Dale," she said gently; "you have business with this lady -and gentleman; we shall see you another time. Come, signora." - -She turned and held out her hand to Valentina, proving herself a better -actress, for there was a smile upon her lip, and she bent forward as if -whispering something through the veil, the only utterances being the -words-- - -"Don't hesitate. Quick!" - -Valentina stared at her--half stunned. Then, as if moved by a stronger -will than her own, she laid one white hand on Cornel's arm, and, just -bending her head to Armstrong, they moved slowly toward the door. - -It was the left hand, and ungloved. - -Cornel saw it, and could not restrain a start. - -The hand was ungloved, and upon it sparkled several rings--for there had -been no need of late to keep up the disguise so closely--and one of -those rings was of plain gold. - -They were nearly at the door, the Conte drawing back on one side to let -them pass, Lady Grayson on the other, Armstrong still motionless, and -feeling as if a hand were compressing his throat, while Cornel, as she -went on with the set smile upon her lip, felt that the hand upon her arm -trembled, and fancied she heard a sob. - -"It is for his sake," she said to herself, "for his sake;" and the next -minute they would have been outside the door, when, with one quick -movement, Lady Grayson reached out her hand, and snatched the veil from -Valentina's face. - -The Conte uttered a cry of rage, and made a dash at her, but she avoided -him, and sprang toward Armstrong, who caught her to his breast, but so -as to have his right hand at liberty. - -But it was not free in time, for the Conte, with a cry of rage, swung -round, and brought down the heavy ebony stick with a sickening crash -upon the artist's head, then caught Valentina from him as he fell inert -and senseless upon the floor. - -"Well, am I such a simple idiot and fool?" said Lady Grayson in a quick -whisper. - -"Yes; to talk now," was the fierce reply. "Help me; get her away, or I -shall kill him." - -Without another word she went to Valentina's side, and between them they -dragged her, sick at heart, trembling, and half fainting, out of the -studio and down the stairs to Lady Grayson's carriage, which was waiting -at the door. - -"Is anything the matter, miss? Can I do anything?" said a voice. - -Cornel looked up from where she was kneeling on one of the rugs with -Armstrong's head in her lap, and saw that the grimy little face of -Keren-Happuch was peering in at the door. - -Cornel looked at her wildly for a few moments, and then, in a low hoarse -voice, whispered-- - -"Yes: quick, water!" Then, with a piteous sigh, "Oh, the blood--the -blood! Help!--quick, quick! He is dying. Oh, my love, my love, that -it should come to this!" - -CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. - -THE AWAKENING. - -"Don't you be in a flurry, miss," said Keren-Happuch coolly; "he ain't -so very bad. Here, you'll soon see." - -She rushed into the bedroom, and returned with a basin, sponge, and -towel, which, to her surprise and annoyance, were taken from her hand; -and she saw Cornel, with deft manipulation, bathe the cut, examine it, -and then take from her pocket a little case, out of which she drew a -pair of scissors and a leaf of adhesive plaster. A minute later she had -closely clipped away a little of the hair, pressed the cut together, and -cleverly strapped it up. - -"Hold this handkerchief pressed to it tightly, while I bathe his -temples," said Cornel; and, as the little maid obeyed, she watched with -wide open eyes the pulse felt and the temples bathed before a few drops -from a stoppered bottle were added to a wine-glass full of water, and -gently poured between the insensible man's lips. - -"Lor', if she ain't one o' them female doctors," thought Keren-Happuch. -"Wonder what she's give him to drink?" - -There was a singular look of dislike condensed into a frown on the -girl's brows as she watched Cornel, and a jealous scowl or two as she -saw her take Armstrong's hand and kneel by his side, waiting for some -signs of returning animation; but at last it seemed as if the girl could -not keep her tongue quiet. - -"I say," she whispered, "are you a doctor, miss?" - -"No: my brother is a medical man, though, and I have been often to a -hospital and helped him as a nurse." - -"Oh, then you know what's right. But oughtn't he to have some -beef-tea?" - -Cornel shook her head, and Keren-Happuch was silent for a few minutes, -but she could refrain no longer. - -"You're the 'Merican lady he was engaged to, aren't you?" - -Cornel bowed. - -"I thought you was. I've took him your letters with Bosting on 'em, -lots o' times." - -Cornel sighed. - -"You're going to marry him, ain't you?" - -"No." - -"Then it's all off?" - -"Yes." - -Keren-Happuch looked relieved. The scowl disappeared from her -countenance, and she smiled at Cornel. - -"Don't you take on about it, miss. It ain't worth it. I allers liked -Mr. Dale, and he makes me feel as if I'd do anything for him, and I -allus have done as much as missus'd let me; but it's no use to worry -about artisses; they're all like Mr. Dale--all them as we've had here." - -Cornel looked at her indignantly. - -"Oh, it ain't my fault, miss. I never wanted him to have ladies come to -see him. I've gone down into the kitchen along with our old cat, and -had many a good cry about it. Not as he ever thought anything about -me." - -Cornel looked at the girl in wonder and horror. - -"But he was allus kind to me, and never called me names, and made fun of -me like the others did. On'y Mirandy, and I didn't mind that. Them -others teased me orful, you know. Men ain't much good; but you can't -help liking of 'em." - -"Hush!" whispered Cornel; "he is coming to." For there was a quivering -about Dale's lips, and then his eyes opened wildly, to gaze vacantly -upward for some moments before memory reasserted itself, and he gave a -sudden start and looked sharply round. - -Cornel suppressed a sigh. - -"Not for me," she said to herself; and she was right. The look was not -for her. - -She knew it directly, for he turned to her, caught her wrist, and said -excitedly-- - -"Gone?" - -"Yes; they are gone." - -"But Lady Dellatoria--gone--with him?" - -The words seemed as if they would choke her, but Cornel spoke out quite -plainly, and without a tremor in her voice, though there was a terrible -compression at her breast. - -"Yes," she said calmly, though every word she uttered caused her a pang; -"she has gone back with her husband." - -Armstrong lay perfectly still for a few minutes, thinking deeply. Then, -as if resolved what to do, he said sharply-- - -"Help me up." - -Cornel bent over him, but he turned from her. - -"No, no, not you: Miranda." - -The girl eagerly helped him to rise, and he leaned upon her as she -guided him to a chair. - -"Thanks," he said huskily. "Now, you wait there." - -The girl stopped at the place he had pointed out, watching Armstrong as -he signed to Cornel to approach, and held out his hand. - -She took it mechanically, and held it fast. - -"Thank you for what you have done," he said. - -"Now go and forget me. You see I am hopelessly gone. It was to be, and -it is of no use to fight against fate. Now go back to your brother." - -"And leave you--sick?" - -"Yes; even if I were dying. God bless you, dear! Think of me as I used -to be." - -"Armstrong!" she cried, with her hands extended toward him. But he -waved her off. - -"No, no. I am a scoundrel, but not black enough for that. Go back to -your brother." - -"Go?" - -"Yes; I insist. You cannot forgive me now." - -She could bear no more. Her chin sank upon her breast, and with one -low, heart-wrung sigh, she went quickly from the room. - -"Thank Heaven! that's over," muttered Armstrong. "Now for the end, and -the quicker the better. Life is not worth living, after all." - -He looked sharply round to where Keren-Happuch stood, wiping her eyes -upon her apron. - -"Here, girl!" he cried. - -"Yes, Mr. Dale, sir." - -"Go at once to Mr. Leronde's rooms--you know--in Poland Street, and ask -him to come on here at once." - -"But are you fit to leave, sir?" - -"Yes, yes. Go quickly." - -The girl hurried off on her mission, leaving the artist thinking. - -"He would challenge me if I did not challenge him. I suppose it ought -to come from me after the blow, for me to prove that I am not `un -lache,' as our French friends term it. A duel! What a mockery! Well, -better so. Let him shoot me, and have done with it. There is not room -here for us both. Poor Cornel! It will be like making some expiation. -It will leave her free. She can deal more tenderly with my memory as -dead than she could with me living still. I should be a blight upon her -pure young life. Ah! if we had never met." - -He lay back feverish and excited, for the blow had had terrible effect, -and there were minutes when he was half-delirious, and had hard work to -control his thoughts. - -For he was wandering away now with Cornel, who had forgiven him because -Valentina was dead. Then it was Cornel who was dead, and he was with -the Contessa far away in some glorious land of flowers, fruit, and -sunshine; but the fruit was bitter, the flowers gave forth the scent of -poison, and the sun beat down heavily upon his head, scorching his -throbbing brain. - -He woke up from a dream crowded with strange fancies, and uttered an -ejaculation of satisfaction, for his brain was clear again, and the -young Frenchman was standing before him, waiting to know why he had been -fetched. - -CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. - -THE SECOND SECOND. - -"Ah, oui, of course," said Leronde, exhaling a little puff of smoke. -"It is so, of course. I know. If there had been no knog viz ze stique, -ze huzziband would shallenge you. But viz ze knog viz ze stique--so big -a knog, I sink you shallenge him, and satisfy l'honneur. I go at once -and ask him to name his friends." - -"Yes, I suppose that will be right," said Armstrong, after a few -moments' thought. - -"But I am not sure that you can fight so soon." - -"Why?" - -"You 'ave ze bad head." - -"Bah! a mere nothing. I am ready; but of course, as you say, it cannot -be here. Listen! Is not that some one on the stairs?" - -They were not left in doubt, for Keren-Happuch came in, round-eyed and -wondering, with a couple of cards held in her apron-guarded thumb and -finger. - -"Please, Mr. Dale, sir, here's two doctors come to see you." - -"Ma foi! two," cried Leronde. "One is bad, too much. Send zem away, my -friend." - -"Bah! Show them up," said the artist; and Keren-Happuch hurried out. -"Look," continued Armstrong; "Italians--his friends, I suppose." - -"Aha! that is good," cried Leronde, holding out the cards. "He -shallenge then. I am glad, for I was get in head muddled after all -vezzer you ought to shallenge. Now we are quite square." - -A minute later two important-looking men were ushered in, to whom -Leronde at once advanced with a dignified mien, receiving them and -listening to the declaration of their mission, and after a few exchanges -of compliments on one side of the studio, away from where Armstrong sat -scowling, they left with the understanding that Leronde was to wait upon -them shortly to arrange all preliminaries. - -"I am still not quite satisfy," said Leronde thoughtfully. "I ought to -have been first, and take your shallenge to him." - -"But what does it matter if we are to meet?" - -"But you vas ze insulte." - -"Indeed!" said Armstrong, with a bitter smile. "Opinions are various, -boy. But let that rest. Help me to lie down on that couch, and give me -a cigar." - -Leronde obeyed, watching his friend anxiously. - -"You vill not be vell enough to fight." - -"I will be well enough to fight, man," cried Armstrong savagely. -"There: wait a bit. It is too soon to follow them yet;" and for a while -they sat and smoked, till Leronde burst out with-- - -"I am so glad you go to fight, my dear Dale." - -"Are you?" said Armstrong gruffly. - -"Yes; it do me good that you are ready to fight M'sieu le Conte like a -gentleman. I thought all Englishmans degrade themself viz le boxe. -Bah! it is not good. You have ze muscle great, but so have ze dustman -and ze navigator; let them fight--so." - -"But look here, Leronde; this must be kept a secret from every one." - -"Oh, certainement, name of a visky and sodaire. I tell nobdis. You -think I go blab and tell of ze meeting? Valkaire! Mums!" - -"Have you ever seen one of these affairs at home?" - -"Oh no, my friend, not chez-moi--at home. It was in the Bois de -Boulogne." - -"And you saw one there?" - -"Four--five--and all were journalistes. I was in two as principal, in -two as friend of my friend, and in ze oder one I go as ze friend of ze -docteur." - -"Then you quite understand how it should be carried out?" - -"Yes, yes, yes," said Leronde, nearly closing his eyes, and nodding his -head many times. "Soyez content. I mean make yourself sholly -comfortable, and it shall all go off to ze marvel." - -"Very well, then; I leave myself in your hands." - -"That is good. Everything shall be done, as you say, first-class." - -"And about weapons?" - -"You are ze person insulte, and you have ze choice. Le sword, of -course?" cried Leronde; and, throwing himself on guard, he foiled, -parried, and hopped about the studio, as if he were encountering an -enemy. - -"Sit down, man," said Armstrong peevishly. "No; I choose the pistol." - -"My friend! Oh!" - -"It is shorter and sharper." - -"But you do not vant to shoot ze man for stealing--fence like angels, -and there will be a little gentlemanly play; you prick ze Conte in ze -arm, honneur is satisfy, you embrace, and we return to Paris. What can -be better than that?" - -"Pistol!" said Armstrong sternly. - -"But you do not want to shoot ze man for stealing away his vife." - -"No," said Armstrong, in a low voice. "I want him to shoot me." - -"Ha, ha! You are a fonnay fellow, my dear Dale. You will not talk like -zat when you meet ze sword?" - -"Pistols." - -"As you will," said the Frenchman, shrugging his shoulders. "You are my -principal, and I see zat your honneur is satisfy. I go then to see ze -friend of M'sieu le Conte, and to make all ze preparations for to cross -to Belgium; but, my faith, my dear Dale, it is very awkward: I have not -ze small shange for all ze preliminary. May I ask you to be my banker?" - -"Yes, of course. I ought to have thought," said Armstrong. - -He went to his desk and took out the necessary sum, passed it to the -voluble little Frenchman, who rose, shook him by both hands, looked at -him with tears in his eyes, told him he was proud of him, and then -hurried off with his head erect his hat slightly cocked, and his eyes -now sparkling with excitement. - -"Step ze first to be in ordaire; whom shall ve 'ave for ze ozaire -seconde?" - -He frowned severely and walked on a few yards, looking very thoughtful. -Then the idea came. - -"Of course: Shoe Pacey. He vill be proud to go viz me to meet ze ozaire -secondes." - -Leronde had been in the lowest of low spirits that morning. The news -from Paris had been most disastrous for gentlemen of communistic -principles, who, in spite of crying "Vive la Commune!" saw the -unfortunate idol of their lives withering and dying daily. Money, too, -had been very "shorts," as he called it, and he had gone to Armstrong -Dale's in the most despondent manner. But now all that was altered. He -had money in his purse, and walked as if on air. There was no -opportunity for following the tracks of either "la gloire, or l'amour;" -but here was "l'honneur," the other person of a Frenchman's trinity, -calling him to the front; and on the strength of the funds in hand, he -entered the first tobacconist's, bought a whole ninepenny packet of -cigarettes, and then smoked in triumph all the way to Pacey's lodgings. - -This gentleman was growling over a notice of the Old Masters' Exhibition -which he had written for a morning paper, and with which, to use his own -words, "the humbug of an editor had taken confounded liberties." - -"Hallo! Signor Barricado, what's up? Republic gone to the dogs?" - -"No, no, mon ami; but great news--a secret." - -"Keep it, then." - -"No, no; it is for you as well. An affaire of honneur." - -"An affair of fluff! Bosh! we don't fight here." - -"No," said Leronde, frowning fiercely. "Belgium." - -"Why, you confounded young donkey, whom are you going to fight?" - -"I fight? But, no; I am one seconde. I come to you as my dear friend -to be ze ozaire." - -"Oh, of course," cried Pacey ironically. "Exactly--just in my line." - -"I knew you would," cried Leronde, lighting a fresh cigarette, and -offering the packet, which was refused. - -"Bah! I like a draught, not a spoonful," growled Pacey, taking up and -filling his big meerschaum. "Now then, about this honour mania? Who's -the happy man?" - -"Armstrong Dale, of course, for certaine." - -"What!" roared Pacey. "Who with?" - -"Ze Conte Dellatoria, my friend." - -"The devil. Has it come to that?" - -"But, yes. Why not? Zes huzziband is sure to find out some ozaire -day." - -"Phew!" whistled Pacey, wiping his brow. Then striking a match, he -began to smoke tremendously. - -"And you will help our friend?" said Leronde. - -"Help him? Certainly." - -"I knew it. Pacey, my friend, you are one grand big brique." - -"Oh yes, I am," cried Pacey banteringly. "Now then, how was it?" - -"Ze Conte follow his vife to chez Armstrong, find zem togezzer, and knog -our dear friend down viz a cane." - -"Humph! Serious as that?" - -"Oh yes. There is a great offence, of course. Zey meet in Belgium, and -we go togezzer to see ze friend of ze Conte and arrange ze--ze--ze--vat -you call zem?" - -"Preliminaries?" - -"Precisely. Now, my dear ole friend, you put on your boot an' ze ozaire -coat, and brush your hair--oh! horreur; why do you not get zem cut short -like mine?" - -"Because I don't want to look like a convict. Come in here." - -Pacey seized his tobacco-jar and a box of matches. - -"Got any cigarette papers?" - -"But yes, and plenty of cigarettes." - -"Come in here, then." - -He opened the door leading into his little bedroom, and Leronde followed -him. - -Pacey banged down the tobacco-jar upon the dressing-table, and then -threw open the window. - -"Come and look out here," he cried. - -"But we have no time to spare, my friend." - -"Come and look out here," roared Pacey. - -As Leronde approached him wonderingly, Pacey seized him by the collar, -and half dragged his head out. - -"Look down there," he said, pointing into the square pit-like place -formed by the backs of the neighbouring houses, from the second floor, -where they stood, to the basement; "you can't jump down there?" - -"My faith, no. It would be death." - -"And there is no way of climbing on to the roof." - -Leronde shook his head, and looked to see if his friend was mad. - -"And you cannot fly?" - -"No; I leave zat to your cocksparrow de Londres," said Leronde, trying -to conceal his wonder and dread by a show of hilarity. - -"That's right, then. You sit down there and smoke cigarettes till I -come back." - -"But, my friend, ze engagement, ze meeting viz ze amis of ze Conte. -What go you to do?" - -"See Armstrong Dale, and bring him to his senses. If I can't--go and -break the Count's neck." - -"But, mon cher Pacey!" cried Leronde, "l'honneur?" - -"Hang honour!" roared his friend. "I'm going in for common-sense;" and -before the Frenchman could arrest him, the door was banged to, locked, -the key removed, and steps were heard on the landing; then the -sitting-room door was locked, and, with his face full of perplexity, -Leronde lit a fresh cigarette. - -"Faith of a man, these English," he said, "zey are mad, as Shakespeare -did say about Hamlet, and I am sure, if zey do shave Shoe Pacey head, -zey will find ze big crack right across him." - -CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. - -THE NEWS SPREADS. - -"If I have sinned," muttered Armstrong, as he leaned back in his chair, -for when from time to time he tried to walk about, a painful sensation -of giddiness seized upon him, "I am having a foretaste of my punishment. -How long he is--how long he is!" - -But still Leronde did not come, and to occupy his mind, the sufferer sat -and thought out a plan for their journey, which he concluded would mean -a cab to Liverpool Street, then the express to Harwich, the boat to -Ostend; next, where the seconds willed: and afterwards-- - -"What?" said the wretched man, with a strange smile. "Ah, who knows! -If it could only be oblivion--rest from all this misery and despair!" - -He rose to try and write a letter or two, notably one to Cornel, but the -effort was painful, and he crept back to his chair. - -"She will know--she will divine--that I preferred to die," he muttered, -"Ah, at last! Why, he has been hours." - -For there was a step outside, and then the door was thrown open, as he -lay back, with his aching eyes shaded by his hand. - -"Come at last, then!" he sighed; and the next moment he started, for the -studio door was banged to, and locked. "You, Joe?" - -"Yes, I've come at last," cried Pacey, thrusting his hands into his -pockets, and striding up, to stand before him with his legs far apart. - -"Well, then, shake hands and go," said Armstrong quietly. "I'm not -well. I've had an accident." - -"Accident?" roared Pacey. "Yes, you have had an accident, the same as a -man has who goes and knocks his head against a wall." - -"What do you mean?" cried Armstrong, starting. - -"Mean? I mean that you're the biggest fool that fortune ever pampered -and spoiled." - -"Joe Pacey!" - -"Hold your tongue, idiot, and listen to me. Here you are, gifted by -nature with ten times the brains of an ordinary man; you can paint like -Raphael or Murillo; fame and fortune are at your feet; and you have the -love waiting for you of one of the sweetest, most angelic women who ever -stepped this earth." - -"Pacey!" - -"Hold your tongue, boy! Haven't I been like a father to you ever since -you came into this cursed village? Haven't I devoted myself to you as -soon as I saw you were a good fellow, full of genius? I'm a fool to say -so, but in my wretched, wrecked life, I felt that I'd found something to -live for at last, and that I could be proud and happy in seeing you, who -are as much an Englishman as I am in blood, rise to the highest pitch of -triumph; while, if you grew proud then and forgot me, it wouldn't -matter; I could afford it, for you had achieved success." - -"You've been a good true adviser to me, Joe, ever since I have known -you." - -"And you have turned out the most ungrateful dog that ever breathed. -Morals? You've no more morals than a mahlstick. You had everything man -could wish for, and then you must kick it all over, and break the heart -of an angel." - -"Let her rest. Say what you like to bully me, Joe. It's all true. I -don't fight against it. But you can't understand it all. Say what you -like, only go and leave me. I want to be alone." - -"Do you?" cried Pacey excitedly. "Then I don't want you to be. So the -Conte gave you that crack on the head, did he?" - -"What!" cried Armstrong, springing up. "How came you to think that?" - -"How came I to think that? Why, I was told by a chattering French ape." - -"Leronde? Told you?" - -"Of course he did. Came to me to be your other second." - -"The idiot! Where is he?" - -"Locked up where he'll stay till I let him loose." - -Armstrong used a strong expression. - -"And so we must have a duel, must we? Go out to Belgium to fight this -Italian organ-grinder. Curse him, and his Jezebel of a wife!" - -"Silence, man!" cried Armstrong excitedly. "Pacey, no more of this! -Where is Leronde? He must be set free at once. My honour is at stake." - -"His what?" cried Pacey, bursting into a roar of ironical laughter. "My -God! His honour! You adulterous dog, you talk to me of your honour and -duelling, and all that cursed, sickly, contemptible code that ought to -have been dead and buried, and wondered at by us as a relic of the dark -ages--you talk to me of that? Why, do you know what it means? First -and foremost, murdering Cornel Thorpe: for, as sure as heaven's above -us, that organ-man will shoot you like the dog you are, and in killing -you he'll kill that poor girl. I swear it. She can't help it. She -gave her love to you, poor lassie, and she's the kind of woman who loves -once and for all. There's the first of it. As for you, well, the best -end of you is that you should be buried at once, out of the way, as you -would be if I let you go to meet this man." - -"If you let me?" raged Armstrong. - -"Yes, if I let you; for I won't. Why, you're mad. That Jezebel has -turned your brain, and I'll have you in a strait waistcoat, and then in -a padded room, before I'll let you go to save your honour and his. Ha, -ha! His honour! The Italian greyhound! He never took any notice of -his wife till he found she had a lover, but was after as many -light-famed creatures as there are cards in the devil's books. Then-- -his honour! Ha, ha! his honour! Why, the whole gang of French and -Italian monkeys never knew what honour is, and never will. Now then, I -said I'd thrash you, and I have. I only wish Dellatoria had jolly well -fractured your skull, so as to make you an invalid for six months. Look -here; I've locked up Leronde, I'll lock up you, and if the Conte comes -here, I'll kick him downstairs." - -"You are mad. I must meet him." - -"I'm not mad, and you shan't meet him." - -"You mean well, Pacey, but it is folly to go on like this. Run back and -set Leronde at liberty." - -"I'm going to do what I like, not what you like," cried Pacey fiercely, -pulling out a knife; "and first of all, I'll finish that cursed -picture." - -He swung the great easel round, and in a few minutes had slashed the -canvas to ribbons, and torn it from the frame. - -"There's an end of that!" he roared. - -"So much the better," said Armstrong, who had looked on unmoved. - -"Oh! you like that, then?" cried Pacey. "You're coming round." - -"Now go," said Armstrong, "and end this folly." - -"You'll swear first of all that you will not meet this man?" - -"I'll swear I will," said Armstrong coldly. - -"He'll shoot you dead." - -"I hope so." - -"Armstrong, lad, listen to me," said Pacey, calming down. "You'll be -sensible?" - -"Yes." - -"And give it up? For poor Cornel's sake?" - -"Silence! or you'll drive me really mad." - -"Now then, get your hat, and come with me." - -"Will you go?" - -"Will you come with me?" - -"Look here," said Armstrong. "I can bear no more. I want to be cool -and act like a man to the end, but you are pushing me to the very -brink.--Will you go?" - -"Yes," said Pacey, buttoning up his coat. "I'm off now, boy." - -"Where?" - -"Straight to the police. I'll swear a breach of the peace against you -both, and have you seized, or bound over, or something. This meeting -shan't take place. For Cornel's sake--do you hear? For her sake, so -there!" - -He strode to the door, unlocked it, opened, and banged it loudly behind -him, and Armstrong stood thinking what course he ought to pursue, while -Pacey went straight away, not to the police, but to Thorpe's hotel, -where he told the doctor how matters stood. - -"I don't know what you are to do, sir," said Thorpe coldly. "I wash my -hands of the whole business. He has behaved horribly to my poor sister, -and turned her brain. Let him go and be shot." - -"Likely," growled Pacey. "Nice Christian advice to give. Why, it would -kill her." - -"Not it. She has too much womanly determination in her, poor girl. But -I can do nothing. She has been to him again and again in opposition to -my wishes--forgotten all her woman's dignity." - -"To try and save your old schoolfellow, her lover." - -"Bah! she has cast him off, sir, as the scoundrel deserves." - -"Not she," said Pacey. "She loves him still in spite of all, and in -time she would forgive him, if he behaved like a man." - -"Not if I can prevent it," retorted Thorpe. "She shall not forgive -him." - -"Well, sir," said Pacey, "I have not come to dispute with you about -that. He is almost your brother, and he is in deadly peril of his life. -That Italian has challenged him; they will fight, as sure as we stand -here, and the malignant, spiteful scoundrel will shoot Armstrong like a -dog." - -"Nonsense! What can he care for such a wife?" - -"Nothing; but his honour is at stake." - -"His honour!" cried Thorpe contemptuously. - -"Exactly so. What such men call their honour. Armstrong will evade me -somehow, and go off to Belgium, I am sure; and if he does, he is so -careless of his own life now, in his despair, misery, and degradation, -that he will never come back alive." - -"Pish!" - -"It is a fact, sir. I have heard that Dellatoria is deadly with sword -or pistol, and he has been out more than once before--Good heavens, Miss -Thorpe! are you there?" - -"Yes," said Cornel slowly, as she came forward from the door leading -into an inner room. "I have heard every word." - -CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. - -A POTENT DRUG. - -What to do? Leronde a prisoner; Pacey threatening legal steps. He must -go somehow. The only way open appeared to be this; he must leave London -at once, telegraphing to the Conte that he had gone on, and would meet -him and his friends at the principal hotel in Ostend. - -Armstrong, after much mental struggling, had come to this decision, when -there was a knock at the door. - -"Too late," he muttered. Then aloud, "Come in!" and Keren-Happuch -entered. - -"If you please, sir, there's--" - -"I know," he said shortly. "Show them up." - -"Please, sir, it ain't them; it's her." - -"What?" he cried, starting. "Whom do you mean?" - -"Her in the thick veil, sir, as come before." - -"Great Heavens!" panted Armstrong; and his brain seemed to reel. "No. -I cannot--I will not see her." - -"'M I to tell her so, sir?" cried the girl joyfully, "and send her -away?" - -"Yes. I'll go no farther," he muttered. "Send her away at once." - -The girl turned to the door, but, when she twisted the handle, it moved -in her hand, the door was pushed against her, and as she gave way, the -closely veiled and cloaked figure walked slowly into the room. - -Armstrong turned savagely upon Keren-Happuch. "Go!" he said sharply. - -"I knowed it," muttered the girl as she went out. "Men can't keep to -their words, and it's very hard on us poor girls." - -Armstrong stood facing his visitor as the door closed, and then the -giddiness came over him again. He staggered to a chair, dropped into -it, and his head fell upon his hand. - -"How could you be so mad!" he groaned. "Go back to your husband; we -must never meet again. Woman, you have been a curse to me and ruined my -poor life. But there, I will not reproach you." He closed his eyes, -for his senses nearly left him, and his visitor stood gazing sadly down -at him not a yard away. - -"I suppose you will despise me," he groaned, "but I cannot help that. -You will think that I ought to hold to you now, and save you from your -husband's anger. But I can do nothing. Broken, conscience-stricken, if -ever poor wretch was in despair it is I. There, for God's sake, go back -to him. He will forgive you, as I ask you to forgive me now." - -He paused, and then went on as if she had just spoken something which -coincided with his thoughts. - -"You will despise me and think me weak, but I am near the end, and I do -not shrink from speaking and telling you that I go to meet your husband -with the knowledge that I have broken the heart of as pure and true a -woman as ever breathed." - -A low, pitiful sigh came from behind the veil. - -"Don't, for Heaven's sake, don't, now. It is all over; the mad comedy -is played out--all but the last scene. Try and forget it all, and go -with the knowledge that his life is safe for me, for I will not raise my -hand against him--that I swear." - -He uttered a low moan, for the place seemed strange to him, and his -words far distant, as if they were spoken by some one else. Incipient -delirium was creeping in to assault his brain, and in another minute he -would have been quite insensible; but a hand was laid upon his shoulder, -and the touch electrified him, making him spring wildly from his seat -with a cry. - -"No, no," he cried passionately, and with his eyes flashing; "slave to -you no more; I tell you, woman, all is over between us. For the few -hours left to me, let me be in peace." - -The veil was slowly drawn aside, and he clapped his hands to his temples -and bent forward, gazing at his visitor. - -"Cornel!" he muttered--"Cornel!--No, no! It is a dream." - -He shook his head, and passed his hand across his eyes, to try and sweep -away the mist that was gathering in his brain. - -"No, no," he muttered again, in a low tone; "a dream--a dream." - -"No," came softly to his ears, "it is not a dream, Armstrong. It is I-- -Cornel." - -"Why have you come?" he cried, roused by her words, and staggering up to -grasp the mantelpiece and save himself from falling. - -"To try and save you," she said sadly. "Armstrong, you are going to -fight this man?" - -He was silent. The dreamy feeling was coming back. - -"You do not deny it. Armstrong--brother--companion of my childhood--you -must not, you shall not do this wicked thing. Think of it. Your life -against his. The shame--the horror of the deed." - -He laughed softly. - -"I have sinned enough," he said. "He will not fall." - -"Will the sin be less if you let him, in your despair, take his enemy's -life? This is madness. Armstrong, you cannot--you shall not go." - -He was silent. - -"What am I to say to you again?" she pleaded. "You are like stone. -Must I humble myself to you once more, and cast off all a woman's -modesty and dignity? Armstrong, weak, doting as it is, I tell you I -forgive you, dear--only promise me that you will not go." - -He passed his hand across his eyes as he clung to the shelf to keep -himself from falling, and said, in a low, dreamy voice-- - -"An insult to you--a degradation to me to take your pardon. No! -Cornel, and once more, no. Now, if you have any feeling for me, leave -me to myself, for I have much to do." - -"You will prepare to go?" - -He remained stubbornly silent, with his eyes half-closed. - -"Then," she cried passionately, as she saw him sway gently to and fro, -as if prior to falling helpless upon the floor, "I will save you in -spite of all. You shall not give away your life like this. You are -weak, half-delirious, and cannot command even your thoughts. You shall -not go." - -He opened his eyes widely, and it was as if it took some moments for him -to grasp her words. Then, with a little laugh, he said softly-- - -"How will you stop me?" - -"I would sooner see you dead." - -"Well, then--dead--dead--at rest. Why not! You are mistress of all his -secrets--all his drugs. Why not? I have injured you; kill me now--at -once." - -"Are you really mad, Armstrong?" she said, looking at him wonderingly. - -"Yes--I suppose so--my head swims. I can't--can't think. But it is -time to go." - -"Go?--go where?" she cried excitedly. - -He uttered a low laugh and shook his head, as if to clear it again, but -the vertigo increased. - -She started and looked wildly round with her eyes flashing; and a -strangely set look of determination came over her face, as she took a -step to a table upon which stood a carafe of water and a glass, which -she rapidly filled. Then, going toward him again, she hesitated once -more, and her whole manner changed. - -"Armstrong!" she cried, but he did not hear her; "Armstrong!" - -She shook him, and he sprang up, fully roused now. - -"Ah!" he muttered. "Giddy from the blow." - -He took a step or two aside, and caught the back of a chair. - -"You are going!" she said mockingly. - -He looked at her sharply. - -"You will not go," she said. "It is all a braggart's boast, to hide the -cowardice in your heart." - -"What!" he cried wildly. - -"A man who is going to fight does not tell his friends for fear they -should stop him." - -"No," he groaned. "I'm not myself. What have I said?" - -"Coward's words," she cried, "to frighten a weak girl. You bade me -poison you to end your miserable life." - -"I--I said that?" he cried. "Well, why not?" - -"Why not?" she said, gazing at him fixedly, "why not? Look, then." - -He bent forward wondering, as he struggled with the fit that was coming -on again, while she took a bottle from the little satchel hanging from -her wrist, snatched out the stopper, and poured a portion of its -contents into the glass. - -"There!" she cried triumphantly. "The test. Poison--one of our -strongest drugs. Are you brave enough to drink?" - -He took a step forward, seized the glass, tottered for a moment, and let -a little splash over the side on to the floor. Then, drawing himself -up, he placed the vessel to his lips, and drained it--the last drop -seeming to scald his throat, and making him drop the tumbler, and clap -his hands to his lips. - -Then, half turning round, he thrust out his hands again, as if feeling, -like one suddenly struck blind, for something to save himself from -falling. A little later, he lurched suddenly, his legs gave way beneath -him, and he sank heavily upon the floor. - -CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. - -TWO WOMEN'S LOVE. - -A woman--with the fierce lurid look of a tigress in her dark eyes, and -in her action as lithe and elastic, she paced up and down her bedroom -hour after hour. Now she threw herself upon a couch in utter -exhaustion, but anon she sprang up again to resume the hurried walk to -and fro. - -At times she went to the door to open it and listen, for it was secured -only by the locks and bolts of the Grundy Patent--Dellatoria, in spite -of his newly awakened jealous rage, feeling that his wife would join -with him in keeping the servants in ignorance of their terrible rupture. - -But all was still downstairs; and at last, enforcing an outward -appearance of composure, Valentina changed her dress, bathed her burning -eyes with spirit-scented water, and descended to her boudoir, where she -turned down the lamp beneath its rose-coloured shade, and rang the bell, -before seating herself in a lounge with her back half turned from the -door. - -"Pretty well time," said the butler, who had been heading the discussion -below stairs regarding the meaning of what had taken place. "There, -cook, you may dish up." - -The footman presented himself at the door. - -"Your ladyship rang?" - -"Yes. Where is your master?" - -"In the lib'ry, my lady." - -"Alone?" - -"No, my lady. Colonel Varesti and Baron Gratz are with him again." - -"That will do." - -"Yes, my lady." - -The man hesitated at the door. - -"Well?" - -"Does your ladyship wish the dinner to be served?" - -"No: wait till your master orders it. I am unwell. Give me that flacon -of salts." - -The man handed the large cut-glass bottle, and went down. - -The aspect of languor passed away in an instant, and Valentina sprang -from the seat. - -"I might have known it," she panted. "He is no coward when he is -roused, despicable as he is at other times. Those men. It means a -meeting. They will fight, and--" - -She clapped her hands to her forehead as in imagination she saw -Armstrong lying bleeding at her husband's feet. Strong and brave as he -was, she doubted the artist's ability to stand before a man like the -Conte, who had often boasted to her of his skill with the small sword, -and ability as a marksman. - -"And I have wasted all this time." - -Then, after a few moments' thought, divining that the inevitable meeting -would take place abroad, she went up at once to her bedroom and locked -herself in. - -Her brain was still misty and confused by the intense excitement through -which she had passed, for upon reaching home, and savagely dismissing -Lady Grayson, the Conte had turned upon her furiously. The passion of -his southern nature had been aroused, and a mad jealousy developed -itself respecting the woman whom of late he had utterly neglected. - -In a few moments her mind was quite made up, and, taking a small -dressing bag, she rapidly emptied into it the whole of the costly -contents of her jewel-cases, unlocked a small cabinet, and took from it -what money she possessed, and then hastily dressed for going out. - -A very few minutes sufficed for this, and, after pausing for a few -moments to collect herself, she took up the bag, and, unlocking the -door, passed out silently on to the thickly carpeted landing, descended -to the hall, where she paused again as she heard a low buzz of voices in -the library, and then walked quickly to the door, passed out, and -hurried up the wide street, breathing freely as she felt that she had -been unobserved. - -Not quite. Ladies in large establishments live beneath the observation -of many eyes. Valentina had no sooner begun to descend the wide stairs -than a white cap was thrust out from the door of a neighbouring room, -and the eyes beneath it were immediately after looking down the great -staircase, while a pair of ears twitched as they listened till the front -door was heard to close. - -The next minute the wearer of the cap was in the bed and dressing rooms, -gazing at the empty jewel-cases, noting the absence of the bag, cloak, -and bonnet, even to the veil; and then came the low ejaculation of the -one word, "Well!" - -The Abigail ran down the backstairs and made her way into the hall, just -in time to meet the butler returning from ushering out the Conte's two -friends, who had been closeted with him, consulting as to what -proceedings should be taken, as there had been no appearance put in by -the other side. - -The butler heard the lady's-maids hurried communication, nodded sagely, -and said oracularly that he wasn't a bit surprised; then coughed to -clear his voice, waved the maid away, closed the baize door after her, -and entered the library to repeat what he had heard. - -The Conte did not even change countenance. - -"Stop all tattling amongst the servants," he said. "Her ladyship is not -well--a strange seizure to-day. It must be past the dinner hour." - -"Yes, my lord." - -"Let it be served at once." - -The butler bowed, and went out solemnly. - -The moment he was alone, a sharp grating sound was heard, and a strange -look came over the Conte's face as he hastily opened a cabinet, took -something from a drawer, and placed it in his breast pocket. Then, -hurrying upstairs, he satisfied himself of the truth of all he had -heard, and descended, took his hat from the stand and went out quietly, -unheard, even by the servants. - -Meanwhile Valentina had walked straight to the studio. - -The street-door was ajar, for Keren-Happuch had just gone into the next -street to post a letter at the pillar, so the closely veiled woman -passed in unseen, and went upstairs, stood for a few moments listening, -and then softly entered. - -She uttered a low sigh of relief, glad to have entered the place which, -for the moment, felt to her like a sanctuary. - -It was many hours since she had been surprised there by her husband and -Lady Grayson; but to her then it seemed only a few minutes before, and -she looked round the great dim room quickly, with a smile upon her lips. - -But the smile froze there, and a horrible sensation of fear came over -her. She had waited too long. There must have been a challenge from -her husband, and Armstrong had responded. The street-door open; the -studio unfastened; and this dim light! Then she was too late: he had -gone. But where? Belgium? France? The thought was horrible--almost -more than she could bear. - -"No, no," she murmured. "It cannot be." - -She advanced into the great dim place excitedly, with the many -grim-looking plaster figures and busts seeming to watch her furtively -out of the gloom; and as she looked quickly from side to side, she -fancied that the faces were menacing and full of reproach, as if telling -her that she had sent her lover to his death. - -She had nearly crossed the room when she started and shrank back in -horror, for one of the rugs had been kicked slightly aside, and there -was a wet dark mark upon the boards which she knew at a glance to be -blood--his blood, for it was here he had fallen when her husband struck -him down. - -With the faintest of hopes amid her despair that she might still be in -time, she went on to the inner door, seized the handle, and was pressing -it, but it was twisted from her fingers, the door opened, and she was -about to fling herself into Armstrong's arms, but only shrank back with -a look of jealous rage and despair. - -For Cornel stood framed in the opening and closed the door, then looked -her firmly and defiantly in the face. - -Neither spoke for a full minute, and as Valentina gazed in the blanched -countenance before her, she read here so stony and despairing a look, -that she shrank away in horror, certain that either there was some -terrible revelation awaiting her beyond the door which had been so -carefully closed, or else that Cornel's eyes were confirming her worst -dread, and that Armstrong had gone forth to meet his death. - -It was some moments before the Contessa could command herself -sufficiently to speak aloud. She wished to get from Cornel's lips the -truth, and to show her how, possessed as she was of Armstrong's love, -she could treat her with calm, contemptuous tolerance, as one almost -beneath her notice. But the stern disdain in those large flashing eyes -mastered her and kept her silent. There was a magnetism in their -glance, and she felt that if she spoke it would be in a broken feeble -manner, which would lower her in her rival's eyes. - -She fought against it, struggled for a long time vainly, and moment by -moment felt how strong in her innocence and truth her rival stood before -her. It was not until she had lashed herself into a state of fury that -she could force herself to speak. - -"Mr. Dale--where is he?" she cried at last imperiously. - -"How dare you come and ask?" said Cornel fiercely, her whole manner -changed. - -"Because I have a right," cried Valentina, who, stung now by her rival's -words, began to recover herself. Her eyes too dilated as she went on, -and something of her old hauteur and contempt flashed out. - -"You!--a right?" - -"Yes; the right of the woman he loves--who has given up everything for -his sake." - -"Loves! The woman he loves!" cried Cornel contemptuously. - -"Yes, and who loves him as such a woman as I can love. Do you think -that you, in your girlish coldness, could ever have won him as I have? -Tell me where he is." - -"That you may join him?" cried Cornel. "You would give him over to your -husband--to that horror--and his death." - -"Ah!" cried Valentina excitedly; "then he has not gone yet. He is -safe." And, in spite of herself, she gave way to a hysterical burst of -tears. - -"What is it to you?" said Cornel coldly. "He has escaped from your -hands. You have no right here, woman. Go." - -"I am right, then," cried the Contessa, mastering her weakness once -more. "You are trying to keep us apart. He is mine, I tell you, mine -for ever. He is there, then; I am not too late--there in that room. -Armstrong!" she cried loudly, "come to me. I am here." - -She made for the door again, but Cornel seized her, and strove with all -her might to keep the furious woman back, but she was like a child in -her hands, and was rudely flung aside. Valentina thrust open the door, -entered the study, and passed through it to the chamber beyond, to utter -a wild cry, and fall upon her knees beside the bed on which Armstrong -lay cold and still. - -Then, starting up, she bent over him, laid her hand upon his brow, her -cheek against his lips, and staggered back. - -"Dead!" she cried, "dead!" - -For his eyes were closed, and the bandaged cut upon his brow gave him a -ghastly look, seen as he was by the shaded light of a lamp upon the -table by the bed's head. - -She rushed back through the little room to the studio, where Cornel -stood, wild-eyed, and white as the figure upon the bed. - -"Wretch! you have killed him in your insane jealousy. It could not have -been that blow. Tell me! confess!" she cried, seizing her by the arms. - -"Better so than that he should have fallen back into your power," said -Cornel bitterly. - -"Ah! You own it, then? Oh, it is too horrible!" - -Her face convulsed with agony, the Contessa seized Cornel by the arm, -threw down the bag, which flew open, so that the jewels scattered on the -floor, and tried to drag her toward the studio door, calling hoarsely -for help. But her voice rose to the ceiling, and not a sound was heard -below. - -But Cornel resisted now with all her might, and in the struggle which -ensued wrested herself away, ran across the studio, darted through the -door of the little room, dashed it to, and had time to slip the bolt -before her rival flung herself against it, and then beat heavily against -the panel with her hand. - -Pale as ashes, and panting with excitement, Cornel stood with her left -shoulder pressed against the panel, feeling the blows struck upon it -through the wood, as, with her eyes fixed and strained, she felt about -for the key, her hand trembling so that she could hardly turn it in the -lock. - -"No, no!" she muttered. "I'll die sooner than she shall touch him -again." - -Then she held her breath, listening, for she fancied she heard a sound -in the studio above the beating on the panel, which suddenly culminated -in one strangely given blow, accompanied by a wild shriek of agony, -followed by a heavy fall and a piteous groan. - -CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. - -HUSBAND AND WIFE. - -Startled beyond bearing by the sounds of mortal suffering, Cornel -unfastened the door, drew it toward her, and then stopped, utterly -paralysed by the scene in the studio. - -There, not a yard away from the door, lay the beautiful woman, her face -drawn in agony and horror, with the blood welling from a wound in her -throat: her bonnet was back on her shoulders, and her hair torn down, as -if a hand had suddenly been savagely laid upon her brow, her head -dragged back, and a blow struck at her from behind; while standing upon -the other side, with his compressed lips drawn away from his set teeth, -eyes nearly closed, and brow contracted, was the Conte, looking down at -his work. - -For a few moments Cornel could not stir. The studio, with its many -casts, seemed to perform a ghastly dance round her, and she felt as if -this were some horrible nightmare. Then the deathly sickness passed -off, and she cried wildly to the Conte, who did not even seem aware of -her presence-- - -"O Heaven! What have you done?" - -Her piteous appeal made him start back into consciousness, and with a -hasty motion he hurled something across the studio, where it fell with a -tinkling, metallic sound. - -"I--I struck her," he gasped, in a harsh cracked voice. "I loved her-- -ah! how I loved her; and she was false. Look: she had even robbed me, -and fled with all her jewels--to him. See where they lie, scattered -upon his floor. Ah, signora," he cried passionately, and growing more -and more Italian in his excitement, "I poured out wealth at her feet. -There was nothing I would not have done to gratify her. For I loved -her--I loved her. Dio mio, how I loved!" - -"Hush!" cried Cornel, recovering herself somewhat in the presence of -suffering and danger, her medical education asserting itself. "Go -quickly and call help. Send for a surgeon." - -"No, no!" he cried excitedly, as his face blanched with dread. "If I -call, it means the police, and--oh! horror--they will say I have -murdered her." - -"Man!" cried Cornel, in disgust at his sudden display of selfishness, -"have you no feeling?--Is this your love? Quick!--your handkerchief. -Mine too; take it from my pocket. God help me, and give me strength," -she whispered, as her busy fingers staunched the wound by closing the -cut. Then, as the Conte stood looking on, trembling like a leaf, she -bade him fetch a large wide lotah from where it stood upon a bracket, -pour water into it from the carafe, and place it upon the floor beside -the Contessa's head. - -And as she knelt there all hatred and horror of the beautiful woman -passed away. It was an erring sister and sufferer for sin, bleeding to -death; and, knowing how precious minutes were at such a time, she tore -up the handkerchiefs and portions of the Contessa's attire, as, with -skilled hands, she checked the bleeding, and securely bandaged the -wound. - -She was so intent upon her work, that, after he had obeyed her orders, -she was hardly conscious of the Conte's presence, while he, after -watching her acts for some minutes, suddenly looked round, startled by -some sound which penetrated to where they were. Then, trembling -visibly, he began to examine the front of his clothes, passing his hands -over them, and examining his palms for traces of the deed, but finding -none. - -Then a fresh thought struck him, and after keenly watching Cornel to see -if she noticed the action, he crept on tip-toe--a miserably bent, -decrepit-looking figure--to where the tinkling sound had been heard, -picked up a little ivory-handled stiletto, examined its blade in the -faint light, with his back to the group by the inner room door, and, -catching up a piece of Moorish scarf, wiped it quickly, and hid the -weapon in his breast pocket. - -Then creeping on tip-toe to the studio door, he listened, his face full -of abject fear, and hearing nothing, he turned the key. - -He glanced toward Cornel, whose back was toward him, as she busily went -on with her task, hiding too his wife's face from him by her position. - -Hesitating for a moment or two, he then drew a deep breath, and crossed -softly to where the bag lay open with some of the glittering jewels -still hanging to its edge: great strings of pearls, and a necklet of -diamonds. - -These he hurriedly thrust back, and then went quickly and silently -about, picking up rings, bracelets, brooches, and tiaras of emerald, -ruby, diamond, and sapphire, till, with a sigh of satisfaction, he -closed the morocco bag, the fastening giving forth a loud snap. - -"Is--is she dead?" he whispered; and his lips were so close to Cornel's -ear that she started round, and let fall the wrist upon whose pulse her -fingers were pressed. - -"No," she whispered. "I have staunched the wound till you can get -proper help, but I fear internal bleeding." - -At that moment there was a piteous sigh followed by a low moan, and the -beautiful dark eyes opened, to gaze vacantly for a few moments. Then -intelligence came into them, as they rested upon Cornel, who was now -bending over her. - -"Ah," she said softly, as her hand felt for Cornel's, which was laid -upon her brow; "you? Good for evil;" and she drew Cornel's hand to her -lips and kissed it. "Forgive me," she whispered, "before I die. I -loved him so." - -A curiously harsh low cry escaped from the Conte, who literally writhed -in his jealous agony, and Valentina turned her eyes upon him where he -stood dimly seen, as if looking at her from out of a mist. - -"You there!" she said bitterly, as Cornel once more grasped her wrist. -"Well, are you satisfied? You have killed my body, as you killed my -love, when, as a young innocent girl, I was sold to you for your wealth -and title, and Heaven knows I would have tried to be your true loving -wife." - -"Oh, Valentina! my beautiful--my own!" he groaned; and he stooped to -take her hand. - -"Pah! don't touch me!" she cried hoarsely; and she raised the hand she -had snatched away, and pointed to the bag he held. "Take them to your -mistresses whose smiles you have always bought. Let me die in peace." - -"No, no; live!" he cried. - -"To save you from the punishment you merit?" she whispered scornfully. - -"No, no! to be my dearest love and wife again. Let us go back to sunny -Italy, away from all this miserable city." - -"Too late!" she said sadly. "You should have said that years ago." - -"For pity's sake don't speak," whispered Cornel. - -"Why not, little doctor?" said Valentina softly. "Better so. Ah, I was -not all bad, dear. I loved him before I knew of you. How could I help -looking on you with jealous hate? Let me kiss you once--before I go. -Be loving to him and forgive him--it was all my fault--tell me you will -forgive him--when I am gone." - -"With all my heart," said Cornel softly; and she bent down to press her -lips to those of the suffering woman, while the tears over-ran her -brimming eyelids, and her heart swelled with pity for one so deeply -punished for her sin. - -But as if the Contessa recollected the scene of a short time before, she -thrust the gentle face away before lips touched lips, and with a loud -cry-- - -"No, no! I had forgotten. I remember now. How could you be so base? -No! don't touch me. I will see him once again. Armstrong!--my love--my -own." - -She dragged herself over, and began to crawl to the door, when the -Conte's face became convulsed with passion once more, his hand sought -his breast, the bag fell to the ground, and with an oath he cried-- - -"Then he is in there!--in hiding." - -Springing over the crawling figure, he dashed through to the inner room, -and, as Valentina uttered a piteous moan, the Conte flung open the -bedroom door. - -"Dog!--Coward!" he yelled, and then stopped, petrified at the sight of -the motionless figure upon the bed. Then the door swung to between -them, and he thrust back the little blade, and came stealthily out, -muttering softly to himself as he bent over his wife, insensible to all -that passed. - -He was trembling violently now. - -"I did not know," he muttered to Cornel. "I struck him when I found -them together, but I did not know. I--I must go--away. Your laws are -bad. An affair of honour. Will--will she die too?" - -"I cannot say," replied Cornel coldly. "She must have better surgical -help. I am only a nurse." - -"Yes," he said hastily. "Better help. A great surgeon. She must not -die. I will get a carriage and take her away." - -"It would be dangerous to move her." - -"More dangerous far to leave her here," he muttered. Then aloud, "It -must be risked, madam. But listen. You are his friend?" - -"Yes." - -"This is a terrible misfortune, but a private matter--not for the -police. You will not tell them how--by accident--I struck my wife?" - -"No," said Cornel, after a pause; and a shudder ran through her. - -"Hah! Then the law need not meddle with what was a private quarrel--a -mistake. My wife, here, shall live, and you who are so good and -beautiful and kind, you shall be silent, and--one moment." - -He fumbled with the clasp of the bag he had picked up, opened it, and, -as Cornel's brows contracted with horror, he searched within and drew -out a magnificent diamond and sapphire bracelet. - -"Hah!" he cried. "You will wear that for both our sakes, and be silent, -and blind to the past." - -"I will be silent and blind, for the sake of the man I loved," she said -to herself, as she thrust back the jewel and shook her head. - -"But you will not tell?" he said. - -"No, sir; your secret is safe." - -The Conte uttered a sigh of satisfaction, threw back the bracelet, and -closed the bag with a snap, while Cornel eyed him with disgust. - -"Do you intend to risk removing this lady?" - -"Certainly," he said firmly; "it must be done. Lock the door after me," -he whispered, as he crossed the studio. - -Cornel followed and obeyed, listening to his descending steps. Then, -returning to where Valentina lay insensible, she satisfied herself of -the security of the bandages, and once more felt her pulse. - -"If there is no internal bleeding she will live. Yes, I will forgive -you. Some day you may know the truth. And then? Ah, who can tell?" - -She bent down and kissed the broad forehead, and then knelt there for a -few moments before rising and going quickly into Armstrong's bedroom to -gaze at him for a minute, and return, carefully closing after her both -the doors. - -She kept her vigil there for a few minutes before there were steps -again, and a soft tap at the door. - -She admitted the Conte. - -"I have a carriage waiting, and a man here to help," he said. - -"I am not clever and experienced," said Cornel anxiously. "Let a doctor -see her first." - -For answer the Conte gave her a quick nod. - -"It is secrecy, is it not?" - -"Oh yes, but--" - -"The best London can give," he whispered. "When I have her back at -home. And you understand that was nonsense which I said about striking -him?" - -The bag was on his arm, with his hand pushed far through, as he went -back to the door, and signalled to a man to come in. Then seeing that -this removal was inevitable, Cornel rapidly replaced the cloak well -round the insensible figure, and rearranged the head. - -"Don't--don't waste time," said the Conte impatiently, and signing to -the man, the latter bent down and lifted the motionless figure as easily -as if it had been a child. - -"Be careful, my friend. A sad accident. Be careful. Mind." - -He opened the door for the man to pass through, and Cornel followed -them, to listen to the heavy descending steps, till all was silent. -Then came the rattle of wheels, and she knew that they were gone. - -Closing the door of the studio, she walked across it, dropped upon her -knees, and clasped her hands. - -"Have I done rightly?" she murmured. "I don't know. It seems like -madness now." Then a weary sigh, as she laid her head against the door -leading to the chamber. "Armstrong! what I have suffered for your -sake!" - -CHAPTER THIRTY. - -THE LAST. - -"And you gave him enough to keep him in that insensible state?" said Dr. -Thorpe next night, after seeing and treating Armstrong, who lay in a -weak, half-delirious state. - -Cornel nodded and gazed wildly at her brother, who continued-- - -"To keep him from going abroad to fight this duel?" - -"Yes, I felt sure that the Conte would kill him." - -"And serve him right. Well," he went on, as his sister winced at his -harsh words, "this proves the truth of the saying--`A little knowledge -is a dangerous thing,' You know a bit about narcotics and anaesthetics, -and you may congratulate yourself upon not having killed him. But -there, perhaps, it was right; and anyhow, you have saved him." - -"You think he will recover now?" she cried eagerly. - -"Think so? Oh yes! of course. Nothing to prevent him. Only wants -time. But it's nothing to you." - -"How is the Contessa?" - -"Getting better, I hear. Fact is, I met the surgeon who is attending -her at the society. But never mind them. I shall have done all I want -here in less than a fortnight. That is when the _Spartania_ sails, so -be ready, and let's get back." - -"Yes, dear," said Cornel quietly, "I shall have finished my task, too." - -Two years later Armstrong Dale went back home, but only for a visit, for -his fame was increasing rapidly, and he had more commissions than he -could undertake. He wanted help and counsel, and he brought them back -with him, for he did not return to London alone. - -Four more years had elapsed, and that season there was a great deal of -talk about Armstrong Dale's big picture at the Academy. The press had -praised it unanimously; society had endorsed the critics' words; and it -was sold for a heavy sum. But though he was importuned to take -portraits, Armstrong sternly refused. - -The picture that year was a fanciful subject of a beautiful woman -reclining upon a tiger skin, with a huge cluster of orange maculated -lilies thrust, as if by careless hands, into a magnificent repousse -copper vase. And as he painted it, he had turned to his wife one day, -and said, "I can't help it, Little Heart; it will come so like her. I -shall paint it out and give up." - -Then he seized a cloth to pass across the fresh paint, but Cornel caught -his wrist. - -"Absurd!" she cried. "That magnificent piece of work--and because of a -fancied resemblance?" - -"Then you do not mind?" he said sadly. - -Palette, brushes, and mahlstick were slowly and softly taken from his -hands, which were drawn round Cornel's neck, and she nestled closely in -his breast. - -"Mind? No," she said gently; "let the dead past bury its dead." - -The picture went to the Academy then, and was the most discussed work of -the year. - -One sunny morning early, so as to be before the crush, Armstrong and his -wife walked through the principal room, joined together by a little -fairy-like golden-haired link, whose bright eyes flashed with delight as -she clung to the hand on either side, for she was at her urgent request -being taken "to see papa's picture--`The Tiger Lily.'" - -The trio had been standing in front of it for some minutes, when, after -playfully responding to the happy child's many questions, Cornel and -Armstrong turned to take her round the room, but both stopped short as -if petrified. - -For within a couple of yards stood Valentina, pale as death, her eyes -abnormally large, and her whole countenance telling of bodily suffering -and mental pain. - -Beside her was an invalid-chair, occupied by a wasted, prematurely old -man, wrapped in furs--in May--and attended by a servant, who stood -motionless behind. - -The meeting was a surprise, and all present save one remained fascinated -by some spell. - -The silence was broken by Valentina, who took a step forward, and held -out her hand, while Armstrong saw at a glance that the Conte was gazing -vacantly at the pictures, his eyes dull and glazed, the light of -recognition being absent. - -"It is six years since we met, Mrs. Dale," said the Contessa softly, but -the tones of her voice were changed, and she turned her head slightly to -let her eyes rest upon Armstrong. "As in all human probability we shall -never meet again, I cannot resist referring once to the past--to thank -your sweet wife for the life she saved." - -"Oh, pray," whispered Cornel in a tremulous voice, "no more." - -"No," said Valentina, holding Cornel's hand tightly, and gazing wildly -in her eyes, though her voice was very calm. "We go back to Italy at -once. My husband, who is a great invalid, seems better there." - -She paused for a moment, as if to gain strength to continue; and then, -in a low, passionate whisper, full of the maternal longing of an -unsatisfied heart-- - -"Your child? May I kiss her once?" - -Cornel bowed her head--she could not speak, but held the child a little -forward, and Valentina bent down. - -"Will you kiss me?" she asked. - -The bright, innocent eyes looked smilingly up, and the silvery voice -said, as the soft little arms clasped her neck-- - -"Yes, I'll give you two." Then, as she was held tightly for a few -moments, "Do you like dear papa's picture? I saw him make it. Is it -you?" - -The eager, wondering question sent a pang through three breasts, but not -another word was uttered, till the invalid-chair and its attendants had -passed through the door close by. - -It was the child who broke the silence just as Cornel had stolen her -hand to her husband's side to press his with a long, firm, trusting -grasp. - -"Why did that lady cry when she kissed me, mamma? I know:" the child -added quickly. "It was because that poor gentleman is so ill." - -It was the winter of the same year when Armstrong was seated by his -studio fire with his child upon his knee, and Cornel upon the rug, with -the warm light of the fire upon her cheek--not in the old studio, but -the great, artistically furnished salon in Kensington. The door opened, -and a gruff voice exclaimed-- - -"May I come in?" - -The child uttered a cry of delight, sprang from her father's knee, and -dashed across the studio, to begin dragging forward the rough grey-beard -in a shabby velvet coat, and soft black hat. - -He raised her in his arms, and bore her forward caressingly, to sit -chatting for some time. Then Cornel rose and took the child's hand. - -"Come, dear," she said. "Your tea-time." - -"No, no. I want to stop with Uncle Joe." - -"Uncle Joe wants to talk to papa about business," said Cornel, with a -nod and a smile, as she drew the little one away. "You shall come in to -dessert if you are good." - -She nodded, smiling at the rough-looking old friend, and then tripped -out playfully with the child. - -"Light your pipe, old man," said Armstrong. "Is it business?" - -"Yes. Your wife reads my face like a book. Have you seen to-day's -paper?" - -"No. Been growling all day at the bad light and playing with Tiny." - -"Read that, then." - -Pacey passed a crumpled newspaper, folded small, and under the Paris -news Armstrong read-- - -"Mú Leronde has been appointed French Consul at Constantinople, and -leaves Marseilles by the Messageries Maritimes steamer _Corne d'Or_ on -Friday." - -"Well, I am glad. Hang it, Joe, I could find it in my heart to run over -to Paris to have one dinner with him, and say `Good-bye.'" - -"No time," said Pacey gruffly. "Now read that." He took back the paper -and doubled it again, so that the front page was outward, and pointed to -the column of deaths. - -Armstrong started, and for some moments held the paper with his eyes -fixed upon his friend, in whose countenance he seemed to divine what was -to come. - -He was in no wise surprised, when he looked down, to find the name -Dellatoria, and he began to read the announcement with the remembrance -that the Conte's face, when they last met, bore the stamp of impending -death; but he was not prepared for what he did read. The type was -blurred, and the paper quivered a little as he saw as through a mist the -name Valentina, the age thirty, Rome, and then the last words stood out -clearly--"Only surviving the Conte Dellatoria four days." - -"Chapter the last, boy," said Pacey, taking back the paper, and folding -it tightly before replacing it in his breast pocket. - -"Yes," said Armstrong slowly, as he mentally looked backward through the -golden mists of six years, "chapter the last." - -The End. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tiger Lily, by George Manville Fenn - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIGER LILY *** - -***** This file should be named 40673-8.txt or 40673-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/6/7/40673/ - -Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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