my
work. Because I have not pleased you, you will use whatever power you have
to ruin me. Is that what you mean, Mrs. Taine?"

"You have made your choice. You must take the consequences," she replied
coldly, and turned to leave the studio.

In the doorway, stood the woman with the disfigured face.

Conrad Lagrange stood near.

XLI

Marks of the Beast

When Mrs. Taine would have passed out of the studio, the woman with the
disfigured face said, "Wait madam, I must speak to you."

Aaron King recalled that strange scene at the depot, the day of his
arrival in Fairlands.

"I have nothing to say to you"--returned Mrs. Taine, coldly--"stand aside
please."

But Conrad Lagrange quietly closed the door. "I think, Mrs. Taine," he
remarked dryly, "than you will be interested in what Miss Willard has to
say."

"Oh, very well," returned the other, making the best of the situation.
"Evidently, you heard what I just said to your protege."

The novelist answered, "We did. Accept my compliments madam; you did it
very nicely."

"Thanks," she retorted, "I see you still play your role of protector. You
might tell your charge whether or not I am mistaken as to the probable
result of his--ah--artistic conscientiousness."

"Mr. King knows that you are not. You have, indeed, put the situation
rather mildly. It is a sad fact, but, never-the-less, a fact, that the
noblest work is often forced to remain unrecognized and unknown to the
world by the same methods that are used to exalt the unworthy. You
undoubtedly have the power of which you boast, Mrs. Taine, but--"

"But what?" she said triumphantly. "You think I will hesitate to use my
influence?"

"I _know_ you will not use it--in this case," came the unexpected answer.

She laughed mockingly, "And why not? What will prevent?"

"The one thing on earth, that you fear, madam"--answered Conrad
Lagrange--"the eyes of the world."

Aaron King listened, amazed.

"I don't think I understand," said Mrs. Taine, coldly.

"No? That is what Miss Willard proposes to explain," returned the
novelist.

She turned haughtily toward the woman with the disfigured face. "What can
this poor creature say to anything I propose?"

Myra Willard answered gently, sadly, "Have you no kindness, no sympathy at
all, madam? Is there nothing but cruel selfishness in your heart?"

"You are insolent," retorted the other, sharply. "Say what you have to say
and be brief."

Myra Willard drew