emselves as I see them, any more than common
people do," assented Trefusis.

"What an exquisite face!" exclaimed Erskine suddenly, catching sight of
a photograph in a rich gold and coral frame on a miniature easel draped
with ruby velvet. Trefusis turned quickly, so evidently gratified that
Sir Charles hastened to say, "Charming!" Then, looking at the portrait,
he added, as if a little startled, "It certainly is an extraordinarily
attractive face."

"Years ago," said Trefusis, "when I saw that face for the first time, I
felt as you feel now."

Silence ensued, the two visitors looking at the portrait, Trefusis
looking at them.

"Curious style of beauty," said Sir Charles at last, not quite so
assuredly as before.

Trefusis laughed unpleasantly. "Do you recognize the artist--the
enthusiastic amateur--in her?" he said, opening another drawer and
taking out a bundle of drawings, which he handed to be examined.

"Very clever. Very clever indeed," said Sir Charles. "I should like to
meet the lady."

"I have often been on the point of burning them," said Trefusis; "but
there they are, and there they are likely to remain. The portrait has
been much admired."

"Can you give us an introduction to the original, old fellow?" said
Erskine.

"No, happily. She is dead."

Disagreeably shocked, they looked at him for a moment with aversion.
Then Erskine, turning with pity and disappointment to the picture, said,
"Poor girl! Was she married?"

"Yes. To me."

"Mrs. Trefusis!" exclaimed Sir Charles. "Ah! Dear me!"

Erskine, with proof before him that it was possible for a beautiful girl
to accept Trefusis, said nothing.

"I keep her portrait constantly before me to correct my natural
amativeness. I fell in love with her and married her. I have fallen in
love once or twice since but a glance at my lost Hetty has cured me of
the slightest inclination to marry."

Sir Charles did not reply. It occurred to him that Lady Brandon's
portrait, if nothing else were left of her, might be useful in the same
way.

"Come, you will marry again one of these days," said Erskine, in a
forced tone of encouragement.

"It is possible. Men should marry, especially rich men. But I assure you
I have no present intention of doing so."

Erskine's color deepened, and he moved away to the table where the
albums lay.

"This is the collection of photographs I spoke of," said Trefusis,
following him and opening one of the books. "I took many