nvoluntarily Lord Findon glanced across the room, at the
_decollete_ shoulders and buxom good looks of his wife. When Eugenie
was in the house the second Lady Findon never seemed to him well
dressed.

When Fenwick and Cuningham had departed--Fenwick in a glow of grateful
good-humour, expressing himself effusively to his host--Madame de
Pastourelles approached her father, smiling.

'That youth has asked me to sit to him.'

'The audacious rascal!' cried Lord Findon, fuming. 'He has never seen
you before--and, besides, how does any one know what he can do?'

'Why, you said yourself his picture was remarkable.'

'So it is. But what's one picture? What do you think, Welby?' he
said, impulsively addressing the man beside him. 'Wasn't it like his
impudence?'

Welby smiled.

'Like Eugenie's kindness! It was rather charming to see his look when
she said "Yes"!'

'You said "_Yes_"!' Lord Findon stared at her.

'Come with me and see what he can do in a morning.' She laid a
quieting hand on her father's arm. 'You know that always amuses you.
And I want to see his picture.'

'His picture is not bad,' said Lord Findon, with decision.

'I think you will have to buy it, papa.'

'There you go,' said Lord Findon--'letting me in!'

'Well, I'm off to bed.' Smiling, she gave her hand to each, knowing
that she had gained her point, or would gain it. Arthur Welby,
turning, watched her move away, say 'Good-night' to Lady Findon, and
disappear through a distant door. Then for him, though the room was
still full of people, it was vacant. He slipped away without any more
'Good-byes.'

CHAPTER V

It was Christmas Eve, and the dark had fallen. The train from Euston
had just drawn up in Windermere Station, and John Fenwick, carrying
his bag, was making his way among the vehicles outside the station,
inquiring whether any one was going in the direction of Great
Langdale, who could give him a lift. He presently found a farmer's
cart bound for a village on the road, and made a bargain with the lad
driving it to carry him to his destination.

They set off in bitter weather. The driver was a farmer's son who had
come to the station to fetch his small brother. Fenwick and he took
the little school-boy between them, to protect him as best they could
from the wind and sleet. They piled some empty sacks, from the back
of the cart, on their knees and shoulders; and the old grey horse
set forward cautiously, feeling its way down t