. The long, clearly drawn eyebrows, dark in comparison with the
amber hair, the turquoise blue eyes, the mouth of the pictured lady were
curiously reproduced in Milly Flaxman. Possibly her figure may have been
designed by nature to be as slight and supple, yet rounded, as that of
the white-robed, gray-scarfed lady above there. But something or some
one had intervened, and Milly looked stiff and shapeless in a green
velveteen frock, scooped out vaguely around her white young throat and
gathered in clumsy folds under a liberty silk sash.

Mrs. Shaw cried out enraptured at the interesting resemblance which had
escaped them all, to be instantly caught by the elderly cherub in the
background, who did not care about art, while the Professor explained
that both Milly's parents were, like himself, great-grandchildren of
Lady Hammerton. The seraph now fell upon Milly, too shy to resist, had
out her hair-pins in a trice and fingered the fluffy hair till it made
an aureole around her face. Then by some conjuring trick producing a
gauzy white scarf, Mrs. Shaw twisted it about the girl's head, in
imitation of the lady on the wall, who had just such a scarf, but with a
tiny embroidered border of scarlet, twisted turban-wise and floating
behind.

"There!" she cried, pushing the feebly protesting Milly into the full
light of the lamp the Professor was holding, "allow me to present to you
the new Lady Hammerton!"

There was a moment of wondering silence. Milly's pulses beat, for she
felt Ian Stewart's eyes upon her. Neither he nor any one else there had
ever quite realized before what capacities for beauty lay hid in the
subdued young face of Milly Flaxman. She had nothing indeed of the
charm, at once subtle and challenging, of the lady above there. She,
with one hand on the gold head of a tall cane, looking back, seemed to
dare unseen adorers to follow her into a magic, perhaps a fatal
fairyland of mountain and waterfall and cloud; a land whose dim mists
and silver gleams seemed to echo the gray and the white of her floating
garments, its autumn leaves to catch a faint reflection from her hair,
while far off its sky showed a thin line of sunset, red like the border
of her veil. Milly's soft cheeks and lips were flushed, her eyes bright
with a mixture of very innocent emotions, as she stood with every one's
eyes, including Ian Stewart's, upon her.

But in a minute the Master took up Mrs. Shaw's remark.

"No," he said, emphatically;