on the pillows, and
stretching out his hand, repeated wistfully: "Take my word for it, my
dear, he's not the man for you."

Christian, staring at the wall beyond, said quietly: "I can't take any
one's word for that."

"Ah!" muttered Mr. Treffry, "you're obstinate enough, but obstinacy isn't
strength.

"You'll give up everything to him, you'll lick his shoes; and you'll
never play anything but second fiddle in his life. He'll always be first
with himself, he and his work, or whatever he calls painting pictures;
and some day you'll find that out. You won't like it, and I don't like
it for you, Chris, and that's flat."

He wiped his brow where the perspiration stood in beads.

Christian said: "You don't understand; you don't believe in him; you
don't see! If I do come after his work--if I do give him everything, and
he can't give all back--I don't care! He'll give what he can; I don't
want any more. If you're afraid of the life for me, uncle, if you think
it'll be too hard--"

Mr. Treffry bowed his head. "I do, Chris."

"Well, then, I hate to be wrapped in cotton wool; I want to breathe. If I
come to grief, it's my own affair; nobody need mind."

Mr. Treffry's fingers sought his beard. "Ah! yes. Just so!"

Christian sank on her knees.

"Oh! Uncle! I'm a selfish beast!"

Mr. Treffry laid his hand against her cheek. "I think I could do with a
nap," he said.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she stole out of the room.

By a stroke of Fate Mr. Treffry's return to Villa Rubein befell at the
psychological moment when Herr Paul, in a suit of rather too bright blue,
was starting for Vienna.

As soon as he saw the carriage appear between the poplars he became as
pensive as a boy caught in the act of stealing cherries. Pitching his
hatbox to Fritz, he recovered himself, however, in time to whistle while
Mr. Treffry was being assisted into the house. Having forgotten his
anger, he was only anxious now to smooth out its after effects; in the
glances he cast at Christian and his brother-in-law there was a kind of
shamed entreaty which seemed to say: "For goodness' sake, don't worry me
about that business again! Nothing's come of it, you see!"

He came forward: "Ah! Mon cher! So you return; I put off my departure,
then. Vienna must wait for me--that poor Vienna!"

But noticing the extreme feebleness of Mr. Treffry's advance, he
exclaimed with genuine concern:

"What is it? You're ill? My God!"