Again, Mrs. Taine smiled, as though there was some reason, known only to herself and the painter, why he did not wish the girl to see the portrait.  “And do you come to the studio often—­alone as you came to-day?” she asked, still kindly, as though from her experience she was seeking to counsel the girl.  “I mean—­have you been coming since the picture for which you posed was finished?”

The girl’s white cheeks grew red with embarrassment and shame as she answered, falteringly, “Yes.”

“You poor child!  Really, I must scold Aaron for this.  After my warning him, too, that people were talking about his intimacy with you in the mountains It is quite too bad of him!  He will ruin himself, if he is not more careful.”  She seemed sincerely troubled over the situation.

“I—­I do not understand, Mrs. Taine,” faltered Sibyl.  “Do you mean that my—­that Mr. King’s friendship for me has harmed him?  That I—­that it is wrong for me to come here?”

“Surely, Miss Andres, you must understand what I mean.”

“No, I—­I do not know.  Tell me, please.”

Mrs. Taine hesitated as though reluctant.  Then, as if forced by her sense of duty, she spoke.  “The truth is, my dear, that your being with Mr. King in the mountains—­going to his camp as familiarly as you did, and spending so much time alone with him in the hills—­and then your coming here so often, has led people to say unpleasant things.”

“But what do people say?” persisted Sibyl.

The answer came with cruel deliberateness; “That you are not only Mr. King’s model, but that you are his mistress as well.”

Sibyl Andres shrank back from the woman as though she had received a blow in the face.  Her cheeks and brow and neck were crimson.  With a little cry, she buried her face in her hands.

The kind voice of the older woman continued, “You see, dear, whether it is true or not, the effect is exactly the same.  If in the eyes of the world your relations to Mr. King are—­are wrong, it is as bad as though it were actually true.  I felt that I must tell you, child, not alone for your own good but for the sake of Mr. King and his work—­for the sake of his position in the world.  Frankly, if you continue to compromise him and his good name by coming like this to his studio, it will ruin him.  The world may not care particularly whether Mr. King keeps a mistress or not, but people will not countenance his open association with her, even under the pretext that she is a model.”

As she finished, Mrs. Taine looked at her watch.  “Dear me, I really must be going.  I have already spent more time than I intended.  Good-by, Miss Andres.  I know you will forgive me if I have hurt you.”

The girl looked at her with the pain and terror filled eyes of some gentle wild creature that can not understand the cruelty of the trap that holds it fast.  “Yes—­yes, I—­I suppose you know best.  You must know more than I. I—­thank you, Mrs. Taine.  I—­”