drawing-room,
obstructed by much furniture and darkened by many pictures, had not
at first perceived the slender form of his daughter. The April day
was receding, and Eugenie de Pastourelles was sitting very still, her
hands lightly clasped upon a letter which lay outspread upon her lap.
These moments of pensive abstraction were characteristic of her. Her
life was turned within; she lived more truly in thought than in speech
or action.

Lord Findon came in gaily. 'I say, Eugenie, that fellow's made a hit.'

'What fellow, papa?'

'Why, Fenwick, of course. Give me a cup of tea, there's a dear. I've
just seen Welby, who's been hob-nobbing with somebody on the Hanging
Committee. Both pictures accepted, and the portrait will be on the
line in the big room--the other very well hung, too, in one of
the later rooms. Lucky dog! Millais came up and spoke to me about
him--said he heard we had discovered him. Of course, there's lots
of criticism. Drawing and design, modern and realistic--the whole
_painting_ method, traditional and old-fashioned, except for some
wonderful touches of pre-Raphaelitism--that's what most people say. Of
course, the new men think it'll end in manner and convention; and the
old men don't quite know _what_ to say. Well, it don't much matter. If
he's genius, he'll do as he likes--and if he hasn't--'

Lord Findon shrugged his shoulders, and then, throwing back his head
against the back of his capacious chair, proceeded to 'sip' his tea,
held in both hands, according to an approved digestive method--ten
seconds to a sip--he had lately adopted. He collected new doctors with
the same zeal that he spent in pushing new artists.

Eugenie put out a hand and patted his shoulder tenderly. She and her
father were the best of comrades, and they showed it most plainly in
Lady Findon's absence. That lady was again on her travels, occupied
in placing her younger daughter for a time in a French family, with
a view to 'finishing.' Eugenie or Lord Findon wrote to her every day;
they discussed her letters when they arrived with all proper _egards_;
and, for the rest, enjoyed their _tete-a-tete,_ and never dreamed of
missing her. _Tete-a-tete_, indeed, it scarcely was; for there was
still another daughter in the house, whom Madame de Pastourelles--her
much older half-sister--mothered with great assiduity in Lady Findon's
absence; and the elder son also, who was still unmarried, lived mainly
at home. Nevertheless, it was