And the painter at his
easel, reading aright the message, worked and waited; knowing surely that
when she was ready she would come.
Letters from Mrs. Taine were frequent. Aaron King, reading them--nearly
always under the quizzing eyes of Conrad Lagrange, whose custom it was to
bring the daily mail--carefully tore them into little pieces and dropped
them into the waste basket, without comment.
Once, the novelist asked with mock gravity, "Have you no thought for the
day of judgment, young man? Do you not know that your sins will surely
find you out?"
The artist laughed. "It is so written in the law, I believe."
The other continued solemnly, "Your recklessness is only hastening the
end. If you don't answer those letters you will be forced, shortly, to
meet the consequences face to face."
"I suppose so," returned the painter, indifferently. "But I have my answer
ready, you know."
"You mean that portrait?"
"Yes."
The novelist laughed grimly. "I think it will do the trick. But, believe
me, there will be consequences!"
The artist was in his studio, at work upon the big picture, when Mrs.
Taine called, the day of her return to Fairlands.
It was well on in the afternoon.
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