y
caricaturing them. On the whole, they were very good-natured."

"I am sure they admired the drawings; they ought to have done so,
anyway. You have talent. Indeed, I never quite understood why you
became a soldier."

"I think it was from a want of moral courage; you have seen that
determination is not among my virtues. If you knew my father very
well, you would understand. Though he's fond of pictures, he looks
upon artists and poets as a rather effeminate and irresponsible set,
and I must admit that he has met one or two unfavorable specimens.
Then, he couldn't imagine the possibility of a son of his not being
anxious to follow the family profession; and, knowing how my defection
would grieve him, I let him have his way. There has always been a
Challoner fighting or ruling in India since John Company's time."

"They must have been fine men, by their portraits. There's one of a
Major Henry Challoner I fell in love with. He was with Outram, wasn't
he? You have his look, though there's a puzzling difference. I think
those men were bluffer and blunter than you are. You're gentler and
more sensitive; in a way, finer drawn."

"My sensitiveness has not been a blessing," said Challoner soberly.

"But it makes you lovable," Blanche declared. "There must have been a
certain ruthlessness about those old Challoners which you couldn't
show. After all, their pictures suggest that their courage was of the
unimaginative, physical kind."

A shadow crept into Challoner's face, but he banished it.

"I am happy in having a wife who won't see my faults." Then he added
humorously: "After all, however, that's not good for one."

Blanche gave him a tender smile; but he did not see it, for he was
gazing at a man who came down the steps from the neighboring cable
railway. The newcomer was about thirty years old, of average height,
and strongly made. His face was deeply sunburned and he had eyes of a
curious dark blue, with a twinkle in them, and dark lashes, though his
hair was fair. As he drew nearer, Blanche was struck by something that
suggested the family likeness of the Challoners. He had their firm
mouth and wide forehead, but by no means their somewhat austere
expression. He looked as if he went carelessly through life and could
readily be amused. Then he saw Bertram, and, starting, made as if he
would pass the entrance to the gallery, and Blanche turned her
surprised glance upon her husband. Bertram's hand