't say
what he thought he was. He was mad against Mr. Copley and St. Leger
too. He promised whatever Dolly wanted.

And when they were at home, and an opportunity was found, the agreement
abovementioned was written out, and Rupert made two copies, and one of
them he kept and one Dolly kept; both signed with both their names.

So Rupert was safe. From that day, however, things went less well with
Mr. Copley. He began by small degrees to withdraw himself from the
constant attendance upon his wife and daughter which he had hitherto
practised, leaving them again to Lawrence's care. By little and little
this came about. Mr. Copley excused himself in the morning, and was
with them in the evening; then after a while he was missing in the
evening. Dolly tried to hold him fast, by getting him to sit for his
picture; and the very observation under which she held him so, showed
her that he was suffering from evil influences. His eyes had lost
something of their frank, manly sparkle; avoided hers; looked dull and
unsteady. The lines of his whole face inexplicably were changed; an
expression of feebleness and something like humiliation taking place of
the alert, bold, self-sufficient readiness of look and tone which had
been natural to him. Dolly read it all, with a heart torn in two, and
painted it as she read it; making a capital picture of him. But it
grieved Dolly sorely, while it delighted everybody else.

"What is it worth, father?" she asked, concealing as well as she could
what she felt.

"Worth? it's worth anything you please. It is glorious, Dolly!"

"I work for money," she said archly.

"Upon my word, you could turn a pretty penny if you did. This is
capital work," said he, turning to Lawrence. "If this had been done on
ivory, now"----

"I did a likeness of Mr. St. Leger for his mother--that was on ivory.
She sent me ten pounds for it."

"Ten pounds to _her_. To anybody else, I should say it was worth
twenty,--well," said Mr. Copley.

"So I say, sir," Lawrence answered. "I am going to pay that price for
my copy."

"Then will you pay me twenty pounds, sir?"

"I?" said Mr. Copley. "Not exactly, Dolly! I am not made of money, like
your friend Lawrence here. Wish I could, and you should have it."

"Will you get me customers, then, father?"

"Customers!" echoed Mr. Copley.

"Yes. Because you are not made of money, you know, father; and I want a
good deal of money."

"You!" said Mr. Copley, looking at her. F