or some years, passing through phases of alternate hope and
disgust. His sister's affection for him was clouded by his strange
relation to the Jezebel who in her opinion had destroyed their brother.
He could not help it; he could only do his best to meet both claims upon
him. During her lingering passage to the grave, his sister had nearly
severed him from Marguerite d'Estrees. She died, however, just in time,
and now here he was in Venice, passing through what seemed to him one of
the ante-rooms of life, leading to no very radiant beyond. But, radiant
or no, his path lay thither. And at the same time he saw that although
Marguerite felt him to be her only refuge from poverty and disgrace, she
was painfully afraid of him, and afraid of the life into which he was
leading her.

* * * * *

The first guest of the afternoon proved to be Louis Harman, the painter
and dilettante, who had been in former days one of the <i>habitues</i> of the
house in St. James's Place. This perfectly correct yet tolerant
gentleman was wintering in Venice in order to copy the Carpaccios in San
Giorgio dei Schiavoni. His copies were not good, but they were all
promised to artistic fair ladies, and the days which the painter spent
upon them were happy and harmless.

He came in gayly, delighted to see Madame d'Estrees in flourishing
circumstances again, delivered apparently from the abyss into which he
had found her sliding on the occasion of various chance visits of his
own to Paris. Warington's doing, apparently--queer fellow!

"Well!--I saw Lady Kitty in the Piazza this afternoon," he said, as he
sat down beside his hostess. Donna Laura had not yet appeared. "Very
thin and fragile! But, by Jove! how these English beauties hold their
own."

"Irish, if you please," said Madame d'Estrees, smiling.

Harman bowed to her correction, admiring at the same time both the
toilette and the good looks of his companion. Dropping his voice, he
asked, with a gingerly and sympathetic air, whether all was now well
with the Ashe menage. He had been sorry to hear certain gossip of the
year before.

Madame d'Estrees laughed. Yes, she understood that Kitty had behaved
like a little goose with that <i>poseur</i> Cliffe. But that was all
over--long ago.

"Why, the silly child has everything she wants! William is devoted to
her--and it can't be long before he succeeds."

"No need to go trifling with poets," said Harman, smiling.