little when he saw that Madonna was no longer in the
room--then looked aside from the door by which she had departed, to the
bureau. He had been pretty obstinately determined to get possession
of the Hair Bracelet from the first: but he was doubly and trebly
determined now.

"It's no use looking about for the young lady," said Zack; "you behaved
so clumsily and queerly, that you frightened her out of the room."

"No! no! nothing of the sort," interposed Valentine, good-naturedly.
"Pray take something to warm you. I am quite ashamed of my want of
consideration in keeping you standing so long, when I ought to have
remembered that you were not used to being a painter's model. I hope I
have not given you cold--"

"Given me cold?" repeated Mat, amazedly. He seemed about to add
a sufficiently indignant assertion of his superiority to any such
civilized bodily weakness, as a liability to catch cold--but just as
the words were on his lips, he looked fixedly at Mr. Blyth, and checked
himself.

"I am afraid you must be tired with the long sitting you have so kindly
given me," added Valentine.

"No," answered Mat, after a moment's consideration; "not tired. Only
sleepy. I'd best go home. What's o'clock?"

A reference to young Thorpe's watch showed that it was ten minutes
past ten. Mat held out his hand directly to take leave; but Valentine
positively refused to let him depart until he had helped himself to
something from the supper-table. Hearing this, he poured out a glass of
brandy and drank it off; then held out his hand once more, and said good
night.

"Well, I won't press you to stay against your will," said Mr. Blyth,
rather mournfully. "I will only thank you most heartily for your
kindness in sitting to me, and say that I hope to see you again when I
return from the country. Good bye, Zack. I shall start in the morning by
an early train. Pray, my dear boy, be steady, and remember your mother
and your promises, and call on Mr. Strather in good time to-morrow, and
stick to your work, Zack--for all our sakes, stick to your work!"

As they left the studio, Mat cast one parting glance at the garden door.
Would the servant, who had most likely bolted and locked it early in the
evening, go near it again, before she went to bed? Would Mr. Blyth walk
to the bottom of the room to see that the door was safe, after he had
raked the fire out? Important questions these, which only the events of
the night could answer.

A lit