r, "You have missed your chance of natural happiness, and it will
only be by the strangest good fortune if you ever again find yourself
in harmony with fate"? Mallard had far too much discretion to assume
the part of lay preacher, and involve himself in the dangers of
suggesting comfort. The situation was delicate enough, and all his
efforts were directed to subduing its tone. After a pause, he said to
her:

"Have you taken your meals to-day?"

She smiled a little.

"Yes. But I am thirsty. Can you give me a glass of water?"

"Are you _very_ thirsty? Can you wait a quarter of an hour?"

With a look of inquiry as to his meaning, she answered that she could.
Mallard nodded, and began to busy himself in a corner of the studio.
She saw that he was lighting a spirit-lamp, and putting a kettle over
it. She made no remark; it was soothing to sit here in this
companionship, and feel the feverish heat in her veins gradually
assuaged. Mallard kept silence, and when he saw her beginning to look
around at the pictures, he threw out a word or two concerning them. She
rose, to see better, and moved about, now and then putting a question
In little more than the stipulated time, tea was prepared. After a
short withdrawal to the ante-room, Mallard produced some delicate
slices of bread and butter. Cecily ate and drank. As it was growing
dusk, the artist lit a lamp.

"You know," she said, again turning her eyes to the pictures, "that I
used to pretend to draw, to make poor little sketches. Would there be
any hope of my doing anything, not good, but almost good, if I began
again and worked seriously?"

He would rather have avoided answering such a question; but perhaps the
least dangerous way of replying was to give moderate approval.

"At all events, you would soon find whether it was worth while going on
or not. You might take some lessons; it would be easy to find some lady
quite competent to help you in the beginning."

She kept silence for a little; then said that she would think about it.

Mallard had left his seat, and remained standing. When both had been
busy with their thoughts for several minutes, Cecily also rose.

"I must ask a promise from you before you go," Mallard said, as soon as
she had moved. "If you are still alone tomorrow, you promise me to
communicate with Mrs. Lessingham. Whether you wish to do so or not is
nothing to the point."

She hesitated, but gave her promise.

"That is enough; your word give