to Rome!--you my pupil, unto whom I meant to
unfold all the glorious secrets of my art! Olive Rothesay, are you
dreaming?" he cried, angrily.

She only answered him softly, that all her plans were settled, and
that much as she should delight in seeing Rome, she could not think of
leaving her mother.

"Your mother! What right have we artists to think of any ties of
kindred, or to allow them for one moment to weigh in the balance with
our noble calling?--I say _ours_, for I tell you now what I never told
you before, that, though you are a woman, you have a man's soul. I am
proud of you; I design to make for you a glorious future. Even in this
scheme I mingled you--how we should go together to the City of Art,
dwell together, work together, master and pupil. What great things we
should execute! We should be like the brothers Caracci--like Titian with
his scholar and adopted son. Would that you had not been a woman! that I
could have made you my son in Art, and given you my name, and then died,
bequeathing to you the mantle of my glory!"

[Illustration: Page 205 His anger had vanished]

His rapid and excited language softened into something very like
emotion; he threw himself into his painting-chair, and waited for
Olive's answer.

It came brokenly--almost with tears.

"My dear, my noble master, to whom I owe so much, what can I say to
you?"

"That you will go with me--that when my failing age needs your young
hand, it shall be ready; and that so the master's waning powers may be
forgotten in the scholar's rising fame."

Olive answered nothing but, "My mother, my mother--she would not quit
England; I could not part from her."

"Fool!" said Vanbrugh, roughly; "does a child never leave a mother? It
is a thing that happens every day; girls do it always when they marry."
He stopped suddenly, and pondered; then he said, hastily, "Child, go
away; you have made me angry. I would be alone--I will call you when I
want you."

She disappeared, and for an hour she heard him walking up and down his
studio with heavy strides. Soon after, there was a pause; Olive heard
him call her name, and quickly answered the summons.

His anger had vanished; he stood calmly, leaning his arm on the
mantelpiece, the lamp-light falling on the long unbroken lines of his
velvet gown, and casting a softened shadow over his rugged features.
There was majesty, even grace, in his attitude; and his aspect bore a
certain dignified serenity, that w