ent had long been the
wonder of Strong, but had never surprised or amused him more than now,
when he saw Esther, after a moment's hesitation, accept this idea, and
begin to discuss with Hazard the pose and surroundings which were to
give Catherine Brooke's picture the soul of the Colorado plains. Hazard
drew well and had studied art more carefully than most men. He used to
say that if he had not a special mission for the church, as a matter of
personal taste he should have preferred the studio. He not only got at
once into intimate relations with Esther and Catherine, but he
established a sort of title in Esther's proposed portrait. Strong
laughed to himself at seeing that even Mr. Dudley, who disliked the
clergy more than any other form of virtue, was destined to fall a victim
to Hazard's tact.

When the clergyman walked away from Strong's rooms that afternoon, he
felt, although even to himself he would not have confessed it, a little
elated. Instinct has more to do than vanity with such weaknesses, and
Hazard's instinct told him that his success, to be lasting, depended
largely on overcoming the indifference of people like the Dudleys. If he
could not draw to himself and his church the men and women who were
strong enough to have opinions of their own, it was small triumph to
draw a procession of followers from a class who took their opinions,
like their jewelry, machine-made. He felt that he must get a hold on the
rebellious age, and that it would not prove rebellious to him. He meant
that Miss Dudley should come regularly to church, and on his success in
bringing her there, he was half-ready to stake the chances of his
mission in life.

So Catherine's portrait was begun at once, when Catherine herself had
been barely a week in New York. To please Esther, Mr. Dudley had built
for her a studio at the top of his house, which she had fitted up in the
style affected by painters, filling it with the regular supply of
eastern stuffs, porcelains, and even the weapons which Damascus has the
credit of producing; one or two ivory carvings, especially a small
Italian crucifix; a lay figure; some Japanese screens, and eastern rugs.
Her studio differed little from others, unless that it was cleaner than
most; and it contained the usual array of misshapen sketches pinned
against the wall, and of spoiled canvases leaning against each other in
corners as though they were wall flower beauties pouting at neglect.

Here Catherine Br