g portraits, laboured, wooden
landscapes, and preternaturally developed heroes, the expression of
satiated boredom and damnation of draughts, which variously pervaded
the little row of arbitrators, was for a moment dissipated. There
was a movement of chairs, followed by an exchange of complimentary
murmurs; and the picture was finally niched into a space which
happened to fit it between two life-size portraits on the line in
one of the smaller rooms.

On the fashionable afternoon Lightmark's work was never without the
little admiring crowd which denotes a picture of more than usual
interest. The canvas, which had loomed so large in the new studio in
Grove Road, was smaller than many of its neighbours, but its sombre
strength of colour, relieved by the pale, silvery gold of its wide
frame, and the white dresses of the ladies portrayed in the pictures
on either side, made it at once noticeable.

The critics next day referred to it as a nocturne in black and gold,
and more than one of the daily journals contained an enthusiastic
description of the subject--an ocean-steamer entering a Thames
graving-dock at night-time, with torch-light effects; and a mist on
the river.

Eve fluttered delightedly from room to room with her mother,
recurring always to the neighbourhood of her husband's picture, and
receiving congratulations by the score. It had been a disappointment
to her when her husband, at the eleventh hour, expressed his
inability to be present; but even Mrs. Sylvester's remonstrances had
failed to move him, and the two ladies had come under the Colonel's
escort.

"I didn't know your husband was so nervous," said Mrs. Dollond
sceptically. "Is this the effect of matrimony?... Oh, Mrs.
Lightmark, do look at that creature in peacock blue! Did you ever
see such a gown? Have you seen my husband's pictures? He's got one
in every room, nearly. Between you and me, they're all of them
pretty bad; but so long as people don't know any better, and buy
them, what does it matter? Ah, Colonel Lightmark, how do you do? Of
course I've seen your nephew's picture. I've been saying all sorts
of nice things about it to Mrs. Lightmark."

"It's pretty good, I suppose," suggested the Colonel radiantly.
"Have you seen the _Outcry_ this week? There's no end of a good notice
about it, and about your husband's pictures, too."

"Really? I wonder who wrote it. I must ask him to dinner, if he's
respectable. We never read critiques nowadays. T