the artist. I want your candid opinion, Stanmore-impartial-unprejudiced-I tell you. I hope great things from it. I believe it far and away the best I've painted yet. Look into the work. Oh! it will stand inspection. You might examine it with a microscope. Then, the conception, eh? And the drawing's not amiss. A little more this way. You catch the outline of his eyebrow, with the turn of the Rhymer's head.'

'Hang the Rhymer's head!' replied Dick, I don't care about it. I won't look at it. I can't look at it, man, with such a woman as that in the picture. Old boy! you've won immortality at last!'

But Simon's face fell. That's a great fault,' he answered, gravely. The details, though kept down as accessaries to the whole, should yet be worked out so carefully as to possess individual merit of their own. I see though. I see how to remedy the defect you have suggested. I can easily bring him out by darkening the shadows of the background. Then, this fairy at his elbow is paltry, and too near him besides. I shall paint her out altogether. She takes the eye off my principal figures, and breaks that grand line of light pouring in from the morning sky. Don't you think so?

But Dick gave no answer. With feverish thirst and longing, he was drinking in the beauty of the Fairy Queen. And had not Simon Perkins been the dullest of observers and the least conceited of painters, he must have felt intensely flattered by the effect of his work.

6

So you like her,' said he, after a pause, during which, in truth, he had been considering whether he should not paint out the intrusive fairy that very afternoon.

Like her!' replied the other. 'It's the image of the most beautiful face I ever saw in my life. Only it's softer-and even more beautiful. I'll tell you what, old fellow, put a price on that picture, and I'll have it, cost what it may! Only you must give me a little time,' added Dick, somewhat ruefully, reflecting that he had spent a good deal of

VOL. XV.-NO. XC.

money lately, and rent-day was still a long way off.

Simon smiled.

'I wonder what you'd think of the original,' said he. The model who sits to me for my Fairy Queen? I can tell you that face on the canvas is no more to be compared to hers than I am to Velasquez. And yet-Velasquez must have been a beginner once.'

'I don't believe there's such a woman-two such women in London,' replied his friend, correcting himself. 'I can hardly imagine such eyes, such an expression. It's what the fellows who write poetry call "the beauty of a dream," and I'll never say poetry is nonsense again. No, that's neither more nor less than an imaginary angel, Simon. Simply-an impossible duck!'

'Would you like to see her?' asked the painter, laughing. She'll be here in five minutes. I do believe that's her step on the stairs now.'

A strange, wild hope, thrilled through Dick Stanmore's heart. Could it be possible that Lady Bearwarden had employed his friend to paint her likeness in this fancy picture, perhaps under a feigned name, and was she coming to take her sitting now?

All his stoicism, all his philosophy vanished on the instant. He would remain where he was though he should die for it. Oh! to see herto be in the same room with herto look in her eyes, and hear her voice once more!

A gown rustled. A light step was heard the door opened, and a sweet laughing voice rung out its greeting to the painter, from the threshold.

'So late, Simon! Shameful, isn't it? But I've got all they wanted. Such bargains! I suppose nobody ever did so much shopping in so short a

She caught sight of Dick-stopped -blushed-and made a very fascinating little curtsey as they were formally introduced, but next time she spoke, the merriment had gone out of her voice. It had become more staid, more formal, and its

2 N