ter's
portrait of me, which is now, I understand, quite finished.'

'Why did you not ask me to accompany you, instead of asking
Sleaford?'

'I did not know that you would care to do so.' 'Dear mother,' I said,
in a tender tone that startled her, 'you must let me go with you and
Sleaford to the studio.'

She consented, and on the following afternoon I called at my aunt's
house in Belgrave Square. The hall was full of portmanteaux, boxes,
and packages. Sleaford had already arrived, and was waiting with
stolid patience for my mother, who had gone to her room to dress. He
began to talk to me about the astonishing gifts of Cyril Aylwin.

'Have you made an appointment with Wilderspin?' I said to my mother,
when she entered the room. 'The last time I saw him he seemed to be
much occupied with some disturbing affairs of his own.'

'Appointment? No,' said she, with an air that seemed to imply that an
Aylwin, even with Gypsy blood in his veins, in calling upon Art, was
conferring upon it a favour to be welcomed at any time.

'I have not seen this portrait yet,' said Sleaford, as the carriage
moved off; 'but Cyril Aylwin says it is magnificent, and if anybody
knows what's good and what's bad it's Cyril Aylwin.'

'Do you know,' said my mother to me, 'I have taken vastly to this
eccentric kinsman of ours? I had really no idea that a bohemian could
be so much like a gentleman; but, of course, an Aylwin must always be
an Aylwin.'

'Haw, haw!' laughed Sleaford to himself, 'that's good about Cyril
Aylwin though--that's dooced good.'

'We shall see Wilderspin's great picture, "Faith and Love," at the
same time,' I said, as we approached Chelsea; 'for Wilderspin tells
me that he has borrowed it from the owner to make a replica of it.'

'That is very fortunate,' said my mother. 'I have the greatest desire
to see this picture and its wonderful predella. Wilderspin is one of
the few painters who revert to the predella of the old masters. He is
said to combine the colour of him whom he calls "his master" with the
draughtsmanship and intellect of Shields, whose stained-glass windows
the owner was showing me the other day at Eaton Hall; and do you
know, Henry, that the painter of this wonderful "Faith and Love" is
never tired of declaring that the subject was inspired by your dear
father?'

When we reached the studio the servant said that Mr. Wilderspin was
much indisposed that afternoon, and was also just getting ready to go
to