“Ah, yes,” interposed Lady Garnett; “am I indiscreet in suggesting an exceptional attraction?”

Mrs. Sylvester merely looked mysterious, and Lady Garnett was encouraged to continue.

“Your daughter is very beautiful.  This Mr. Lightmark has been painting her portrait, n’est ce pas?  I should think it ought to be a success.  Am I to congratulate him?”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Sylvester hurriedly, “dear Lady Garnett, it hasn’t gone so far as that.”

“The portrait?” murmured the other innocently.  “Ah, I’m afraid you misunderstood me.”

Mrs. Sylvester cast a meaning glance in the direction of Eve, who, sauntering along the terrace with Mary, was now behind their seat, and the conversation, which promised to become interesting, dropped, while Mary explained that they had found the music-stool occupied by a lady, who was superfluously protesting her inability to sing “the old songs”—­the person who always did monopolize hotel pianos, as Mary laughingly asserted.

Two days later Lightmark presented himself at the Pension Bungay.  He had come to Lucerne with the fixed purpose of definitely proposing marriage to Eve.  He was far too worldly-wise to fail to perceive that, so far at least, Mrs. Sylvester had certainly taken no trouble to discourage his pretensions.  His attentions, he argued, had been by no means obscure; his studio had been singularly honoured by the presence of Miss Sylvester and her mother, for the purposes of the portrait; he had even been granted a sitting at the house in Park Street, when a less rigid supervision had been exercised, and when, in the absence of the mother, he had been able to assure himself that the girl was far from despising his adoration.  Before leaving town he had dined with his uncle, the Colonel, at his club, and the veteran had spontaneously and strenuously urged the step, and even thrown out promising hints as to settlements.  He broke in upon the little circle at the hour of afternoon tea, and Eve found his gray travelling suit, and the bronze of his complexion, exceedingly becoming.  He announced that he had come to stay for a week or two; he was going to make some sketches, and he couldn’t tear himself away from that delightful bridge, and his lodgings!

“My dear fellow,” he said to Charles Sylvester, with an air of familiarity which gave one an insight as to the advance the artist had made in his relations with the family, “you must come and see my diggings.  The most delightful old hostelry in Europe.  Built straight up out of the lake, like the castle of Chillon.  It’s called the Gasthof zum Pfistern.  I could fish out of my bedroom window.  I assure you, it’s charming.  You must come and dine with me there.  I hope you ladies will so far honour me?”

This project, however, fell through, and by way of compensation Lightmark and Charles enjoyed the privilege of entertaining the party, including Lady Garnett and Miss Masters, at Borghoni’s; after which the younger people chartered a boat, and floated idly about the star-reflecting lake, while the dowagers maintained a discreet surveillance from their seat on the esplanade.