the princess beyond seas.  Until I knew him better this puzzled me much—­the link was so missing between his sensibility and his type.  He was of course bewildered by my sketches, which implied in the beholder some sense of intention and quality; but for one of them, a comparative failure, he ended by conceiving a preference so arbitrary and so lively that, taking no second look at the others, he expressed his wish to possess it and fell into the extremity of confusion over the question of price.  I helped him over that stile, and he went off without having asked me a direct question about Miss Saunt, yet with his acquisition under his arm.  His delicacy was such that he evidently considered his rights to be limited; he had acquired none at all in regard to the original of the picture.  There were others—­for I was curious about him—­that I wanted him to feel I conceded:  I should have been glad of his carrying away a sense of ground acquired for coming back.  To ensure this I had probably only to invite him, and I perfectly recall the impulse that made me forbear.  It operated suddenly from within while he hung about the door and in spite of the diffident appeal that blinked in his gentle grin.  If he was smitten with Flora’s ghost what mightn’t be the direct force of the luminary that could cast such a shadow?  This source of radiance, flooding my poor place, might very well happen to be present the next time he should turn up.  The idea was sharp within me that there were relations and complications it was no mission of mine to bring about.  If they were to develop they should develop in their very own sense.

Let me say at once that they did develop and that I perhaps after all had something to do with it.  If Mr. Dawling had departed without a fresh appointment he was to reappear six months later under protection no less powerful than that of our young lady herself.  I had seen her repeatedly for months:  she had grown to regard my studio as the temple of her beauty.  This miracle was recorded and celebrated there as nowhere else; in other places there was occasional reference to other subjects of remark.  The degree of her presumption continued to be stupefying; there was nothing so extraordinary save the degree in which she never paid for it.  She was kept innocent, that is she was kept safe, by her egotism, but she was helped also, though she had now put off her mourning, by the attitude of the lone orphan who had to be a law unto herself.  It was as a lone orphan that she came and went, as a lone orphan that she was the centre of a crush.  The neglect of the Hammond Synges gave relief to this character, and she made it worth their while to be, as every one said, too shocking.  Lord Iffield had gone to India to shoot tigers, but he returned in time for the punctual private view:  it was he who had snapped up, as Flora called it, the gem of the exhibition.  My hope for the girl’s future had slipped ignominiously