hing they learn here,
and one or two are men of genius. But I should dearly like to set
them down, _en plein air_ too, if they insist upon it, with the
palette of Velasquez. I went out and wandered in the Morgue
afterwards, and I confess its scheme of colour rested my eyes."

"Do I know your picture?" asked Rainham to change the subject,
finding him a little grim. "Is it the thing you were doing here?"

Oswyn's head rested on one thin, colour-stained hand which shaded
his eyes.

"No," he said with a suggestion of constraint, "it was an old sketch
which I had worked up--not the thing you knew. I shall not finish
that----"

"Not finish it!" cried Rainham. "But of course you must! why, it was
superb; it promised a masterpiece!"

"To tell you the truth," said Oswyn, "I can't finish it. I have
painted it out."

Rainham glanced at him with an air of consternation, of reproach.

"My dear fellow," he said, "you are impossible! What in the world
possessed you to do such a mad thing?"

The painter hesitated a moment, looking at him irresolutely beneath
his heavy, knitted brows.

"I meant to tell you," he said, after a while; "but on the whole I
think I would rather not. It is rather an unpleasant subject,
Rainham, and if you don't mind we will change it."

Oswyn had risen from his chair, with his wonted restlessness, and
was gazing out upon the lazy, evening life of the great river. The
monotonous accompaniment to their conversation, which had been so
long sustained by the drip and splash outside, had grown
intermittent, and now all but ceased; while a faint tinge of
yellowish white upon the ripples, and a feathery rift in the gray
dome of sky, announced a final effort on the part of the setting
sun.

The yard door swung noisily on its hinges, and a light step and
voice became audible, and the sound of familiar conference with the
dockman. Rainham lifted his head inquiringly, and Oswyn, shrugging
his shoulders, left the window and regained his seat, picking up his
sketch on the way.

"Yes," he said in answer to a more direct inquiry on the other's
part, "I think it was Lightmark."

Almost as he spoke there was a step on the stair, followed by a
boisterous knock at the door, and Dick entered effusively.

"Well, _mon vieux_, how goes it? Why, you're all in the dark! They
didn't tell me you were engaged.... Oh, is that you, Oswyn? How do
you do?"

"Quite an unexpected pleasure?" suggested Oswyn sardonically,
n