ied out without flinching. There had been
hours when he had been like a man who held his hand in a brazier, but
he had shown no sign. The canvas had been his companion so long that to
send it from him would be almost as though he thrust forth herself
while she held her deep eyes fixed upon him. But he told the story of
the garret and the drunken painter, in well-chosen words.

"'Twas but like you, Gerald," my lord said with gratitude. "Few other
men would have shown such noble carefulness for a wild beauty they
scarce knew. I--will leave it with you."

"You--will leave it!" answered my lord Duke his pulse quickening. "I
did not hope for such generosity."

His lordship smiled affectionately. "Yes, 'tis generous," he returned.
"I would be so generous with no other man. Kneller paints her for me
now, full length, in her Court bravery and with all her diamonds
blazing on her. 'Twill be a splendid canvas. And lest you should think
me too ready to give this away, I will tell you that I feel the story
of the rascal painter would displease her. She hath too high a spirit
not to be fretted at the thought of being the unconscious tool of a
drunken vagabond."

"Yes, it will anger her," Osmonde said, and ended with a sudden
smiling. "Yet I could not keep hidden the beauties of my kinsman's
lady, and must tell him."

So the matter ended with friendly smiles and kindliness, and the
picture was laid back within the cabinet until such time as it should
be framed and hung.

"Surely you have learned to love it somewhat in your wanderings?" said
the older man with trusting nobleness, standing looking at it, his hand
on the other's arm. "You could not help it."

"No, I could not help it," answered Osmonde, and to himself he said,
"He will drive me mad, generous soul; he will drive me mad."

His one hope and effort was so to bear himself that the unhappy truth
should not be suspected, and so well he played his part that he made it
harder for himself to endure. It was not only that he had not betrayed
himself either in the past or present by word or deed, but that he had
been able to so control himself at worst that he had met his kinsman's
eye with a clear glance, and chosen such words of response and
sympathy, when circumstances so demanded of him, as were generous and
gracious and unconcerned.

"There has risen no faintest shadow in his mind," was his thought. "He
loves me, he trusts me, he believes I share his happiness. Heave