t, and who had an
especial desire to know me.

'This is not a good time at night to make a call,' he said, with a frank
and winning smile; 'but I'm an artist myself. I've seen your work, and
I've heard so much about you, that when I found that Miss Grammont knew
you I couldn't deny myself the pleasure of making your acquaintance.'

He was very frank and pleasant in his manner, very fresh and English in
his look, very handsome and self-possessed. Not self-possessed in the
sense that he had assurance, but in the sense that he did not seem
to think about himself at all, which is the most agreeable kind of
self-possession, both for those who have it and for those who meet them.

We talked about indifferent things for a minute or two, and then he lit
a cigar and rose to go.

'I have heard of your kindness to Miss Grammont and little Cecilia,' he
said, turning at the door. 'You'll forgive me for saying a word about
it, but they're such dear old friends of mine, that I can't help
thanking anybody who has been good to them. Good-night, I'll run in
to-morrow, if I may. Good-night.'

He came again next evening, and we dined together. He is a fine young
fellow, and I got to like him greatly. He is fiery and enthusiastic and
impulsive, and all his adjectives are superlatives, after the manner
of earnest youth. But he is good-hearted and honourable to the core. We
took to each other naturally, and he used to run up to my studio every
evening at dusk. Very frequently we used to go upstairs and spend an
evening with the ladies. Then we had music, and sometimes young Clyde
would sing, and we would all laugh at him, for he knew no more of music
than a crow. And yet I could see that it was to him Cecilia played and
sang, and to her he listened as though she had been an angel out of
heaven. When I played he had no great joy in the music, but when she
played---- ah! it was plain enough--then Love gave him ears, and the
music she created had power over him. This was hard for me, but I have
my consolations.

I can stand up and say one or two things which it is well for a man to
say. It is one of them that I do not whine like a baby because I cannot
have my own way. It is another that I have strangled jealous hate
and buried deep the baseness which would have led me to endeavour to
estrange these hearts for my own purpose. I tell myself at times, 'You
have done well, my friend, and some day you will have your reward. And
if the reward