you to see the Academy first. I
should like you to come to it prejudiced, with your eyes full of all
the successful pictures of the year."

"Is it not at the Academy, Lucia?"

"Don't look so apprehensive!" she said, with a slight laugh. "It has
not been rejected--simply, I could not get it finished in time for
presentation. I was ill, and it just missed this season by a very
little."

"And now, what are you going to do with it?"

"I must offer it next year, that's all."

"What a disappointment for you!"

"Yes, I should have thought so some time ago; but I seem to be much
more apathetic now to everything. Each year that one lives one gets to
expect less and less from life, and one grows more philosophic, more
contented with what is thrown in one's way, and less disappointed when
one's hopes and expectations are not realised. Judging by those things
which we do gain and enjoy and experience the worth lessness of, I
suppose we learn by degrees to infer that others so longed-for and
coveted would prove as valueless if possessed."

Her voice was low and tired, and had the sound of suppressed tears in
it.

"You are in a depressed frame of mind," I said.

"Yes;" then, with a cynical smile, "hysteric, as I told you. Well, will
you come to-morrow about eleven, and then afterwards we can come back
here to criticise 'Hyacinthus'?"

"Yes; I shall be delighted."

"I think mama is going to take our carriage, so come in yours, will
you?"

"Very good," I answered, and there was a long silence. Not broken, in
fact, until there was the stir of some of the guests leaving.

As the third or fourth left the room, I came round and took her hand as
I stood in front of her.

"Good-night, Lucia, I hope you may be granted all the sleep you have
stolen from me," I said gently; then, partly influenced by the contact
of that delicious hand, and prompted by my own impulse, and partly
deliberately to excite, if possible, her own instincts as allies to
fight for me, I pressed it hard as I added,--

"On how many more nights is this hated formula, 'Good-night,' to be
said between us? Minimise them, my darling, for my sake!"

Into the tone I allowed to enter all the strength of my feelings at the
moment. She only coloured painfully up to the heavy eyes, whether from
confusion or pleasure or passion I could not tell. She made no answer,
and the soft, captive hand struggled faintly to be free.

We were surrounded the next instant by