ulevard du Montparnasse with
Susie Boyd; and it was to meet her that Arthur had arranged to come to
tea that afternoon. The young women waited for him in the studio. The
kettle was boiling on the stove; cups and _petits fours_ stood in
readiness on a model stand. Susie looked forward to the meeting with
interest. She had heard a good deal of the young man, and knew that the
connexion between him and Margaret was not lacking in romance. For years
Susie had led the monotonous life of a mistress in a school for young
ladies, and had resigned herself to its dreariness for the rest of her
life, when a legacy from a distant relation gave her sufficient income
to live modestly upon her means. When Margaret, who had been her pupil,
came, soon after this, to announce her intention of spending a couple
of years in Paris to study art, Susie willingly agreed to accompany
her. Since then she had worked industriously at Colarossi's Academy,
by no means under the delusion that she had talent, but merely to
amuse herself. She refused to surrender the pleasing notion that her
environment was slightly wicked. After the toil of many years it relieved
her to be earnest in nothing; and she found infinite satisfaction in
watching the lives of those around her.

She had a great affection for Margaret, and though her own stock of
enthusiasms was run low, she could enjoy thoroughly Margaret's young
enchantment in all that was exquisite. She was a plain woman; but there
was no envy in her, and she took the keenest pleasure in Margaret's
comeliness. It was almost with maternal pride that she watched each year
add a new grace to that exceeding beauty. But her common sense was sound,
and she took care by good-natured banter to temper the praises which
extravagant admirers at the drawing-class lavished upon the handsome girl
both for her looks and for her talent. She was proud to think that she
would hand over to Arthur Burdon a woman whose character she had helped
to form, and whose loveliness she had cultivated with a delicate care.

Susie knew, partly from fragments of letters which Margaret read to her,
partly from her conversation, how passionately he adored his bride; and
it pleased her to see that Margaret loved him in return with a grateful
devotion. The story of this visit to Paris touched her imagination.
Margaret was the daughter of a country barrister, with whom Arthur had
been in the habit of staying; and when he died, many years after