, as that
odd little Frenchman said to me last year, we shall have dropped
irretrievably into the "lowest depth of mediocrity."'

'Kendal!' said an eager voice close to his ear, while a hand was laid on
his arm, 'do you know that girl?'

Kendal turned in astonishment and saw a short oldish man, in whom he
recognised a famous artist, standing by, his keen mobile face wearing an
expression of strong interest and inquiry.

'What girl?' he asked, with a smile, shaking his questioner by the hand.

'That girl in black, standing by Orchardson's picture. Why, you must know
her by sight! It's Miss Bretherton, the actress. Did you ever see such
beauty? I must get somebody to introduce me to her. There's nothing worth
looking at since she came in. But, by ill luck, nobody here seems to know
her.'

Eustace Kendal, to whom the warm artist's temperament of his friend was
well known, turned with some amusement towards the picture named, and
noticed that flutter in the room which shows that something or some one
of interest is present. People trying to look unconcerned, and catalogue
in hand, were edging towards the spot where the lady in black stood,
glancing alternately at her and at the pictures, in the manner of those
equally determined to satisfy their curiosity and their sense of
politeness. The lady in question, meanwhile, conscious that she was being
looked at, but not apparently disturbed by it, was talking to another
lady, the only person with her, a tall, gaunt woman, also dressed in
black and gifted abundantly with the forbidding aspect which beauty
requires in its duenna.

Kendal could see nothing more at first than a tall, slender figure, a
beautiful head, and a delicate white profile, in flashing contrast with
its black surroundings, and with lines of golden brown hair. But in
profile and figure there was an extraordinary distinction and grace which
reconciled him to his friend's eagerness and made him wish for the
beauty's next movement. Presently she turned and caught the gaze of the
two men full upon her. Her eyes dropped a little, but there was nothing
ill-bred or excessive in her self-consciousness. She took her companion's
arm with a quiet movement, and drew her towards one of the striking
pictures of the year, some little way off. The two men also turned and
walked away.

'I never saw such beauty as that before,' said the artist, with emphasis.
'I must find some one who knows her, and get the chance of see