s chamber, with an alcove, into which a bed fitted, the remaining
space being arranged like an ordinary sitting-room. There were numerous
chairs and sofas of comfortable form, a well-cushioned ottoman, smelling,
indeed, villainously of tobacco, and a neat writing-table, with a most
luxurious arrangement of shaded wax-lights above it.

A singularly well-executed photograph of a young and very lovely woman,
with masses of loose hair flowing over her neck and shoulders, stood on
a little easel on the desk, and it was, strange enough, with a sense of
actual relief, Maude read the word Titian on the frame. It was a copy of
the great master's picture in the Dresden Gallery, and of which there is a
replica in the Barberini Palace at Rome; but still the portrait had another
memory for Lady Maude, who quickly recalled the girl she had once seen
in a crowded assembly, passing through a murmur of admiration that no
conventionality could repress, and whose marvellous beauty seemed to glow
with the homage it inspired.

Scraps of poetry, copies of verses, changed and blotted couplets, were
scrawled on loose sheets of paper on the desk; but Maude minded none of
these, as she pushed them away to rest her arm on the table, while she sat
gazing on the picture.

The face had so completely absorbed her attention--so, to say, fascinated
her--that when the servant had found the volume he was in search of, and
presented it to her, she merely said, 'Take it to my lord,' and sat still,
with her head resting on her hands, and her eyes fixed on the portrait.
'There may be some resemblance, there may be, at least, what might remind
people of "the Laura "--so was it called; but who will pretend that _she_
carried her head with that swing of lofty pride, or that _her_ look could
rival the blended majesty and womanhood we see here! I do not--I cannot
believe it!'

'What is it, Maude, that you will not or cannot believe?' said a low voice,
and she saw Walpole standing beside her.

'Let me first excuse myself for being here,' said she, blushing. 'I came
in search of that little cipher-book to interpret a despatch that has just
come. When Fenton found it, I was so engrossed by this pretty face that I
have done nothing but gaze at it.'

'And what was it that seemed so incredible as I came in?'

'Simply this, then, that any one should be so beautiful.'

'Titian seems to have solved that point; at least, Vasari tells us this was
a portrait of a lad