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are quite safe," and then he added, for Stella's behalf, "they are quite safe, Miss Etheridge."

      Stella turned her face toward him.

      "I am not afraid. I should as soon think of biting them as they would dream of biting me, wouldn't you?" and she drew the mastiffs great head on to her lap, where it lay with his big eyes looking up at her piteously, as he licked her hand.

      "Great Heavens, what a herd of them!" said Mr. Etheridge, who loved dogs—on canvas.

      "I ought not to have brought them," said Lord Leycester, "but they will be quite quiet, and will do no harm, I assure you."

      "I don't care if they don't bite my niece," said Mr. Etheridge.

      "There is no fear of that," he said, quietly, "or I should not allow her to go near them. Please go on with your work, or I shall think I am a nuisance."

      Mr. Etheridge waved him to a chair.

      "Won't you sit down?" he said.

      Lord Leycester shook his head.

      "I have come to ask you a favor," he said.

      Mr. Etheridge nodded.

      "What is it?"

      Lord Leycester laughed his rare laugh.

      "I am trembling in my shoes," he said. "My tongue cleaves to my mouth with nervousness——"

      The old painter glanced round at him, and his face relaxed into a smile as his eyes rested on the bold, handsome face and easy grace of the speaker.

      "Yes, you look excessively frightened," he said. "What is it?"

      It was noticeable that, excepting in his first greeting, the old man had not given him the benefit of his title; he had known him when Leycester had been a boy, running in and out of the cottage, always followed by a pack of dogs, and generally doing some mischief.

      "I want you to do a little scene for me."

      The old man groaned and looked at his picture firmly.

      "You know the glade in the woods opening out opposite the small island. I want you to paint it."

      "I am sorry," began the old man.

      Lord Leycester went on, interrupting him gently:

      "Have you seen it lately?" he said, and as he spoke Stella came into the room enticing the mastiff after her, with a handful of biscuits she had taken from the cheffonier. "It is very beautiful. It is the loveliest bit on the whole river. Right up from the stream it stretches green, with the young Spring leaves, to the sky above the hill. In the open space between the trees the primroses have made a golden carpet. I saw two kingfishers sailing up it as I stood and looked this morning, and as I looked I thought how well, how delightfully you would put it on canvas. Think! The bright green, the golden foreground, the early Summer sky to crown the whole, and reflected in the river running below."

      Mr. Etheridge paused in his work and listened, and Stella, kneeling over the dog, listened too, with down-bent face, and wondered how the painter could stand so firm and obstinate.

      To her the voice sounded like the sweetest music set to some poem. She saw the picture as he drew it, and in her heart the music of the words and voice found an echoing harmony.

      Forgotten was the other man's warning; vain it would have been if he had repeated it at that moment. As well associate the darkness of a Winter's night with the bright gladness of a Summer's morning, as think of evil in connection with that noble face and musical voice.

      Mr. Etheridge paused, but he shook his head.

      "Very fine, very temptingly put; you are a master of words, Leycester; but I am immovable as a rock. Indeed your eloquence is wasted; it is not an impressionable man whom you address. I, James Etheridge, am on this picture. I am lost in my work, Lord Leycester."

      "You will not do it?"

      The old man smiled.

      "I will not. To another man I should present an excuse, and mask my refusal. With you anything but a simple 'no' is of no avail."

      Lord Leycester smiled and turned away.

      "I am sorry," he said. "I meant it for a present to my sister Lilian."

      Again Stella's eyes turned toward him. This man—infamous!

      The old man put down his brush and turned upon him.

      "Why didn't you say so at first?" he said.

      Lord Leycester smiled.

      "I wanted to see if you would do something for me—for myself," he said, with infinite naivete.

      "You want it for Lady Lilian," said Mr. Etheridge. "I will do it, of course."

      "I shan't say thank you," said Lord Leycester. "I have nothing to thank you for. She shall do that. When will you come——"

      "Next week—next month——"

      "Now at once," said Lord Leycester, stretching out his hand with a peculiar gesture which struck Stella by its infinite grace.

      The old man groaned.

      "I thought so! I thought so! It would always be now at once with you."

      "The Spring won't wait for you! The green of those leaves is changing now, very slowly, but surely, as we speak; in a week it will be gone, and with it half—all the beauty will go too. You will come now, will you not?"

      Mr. Etheridge looked round with comical dismay, then he laughed.

      Lord Leycester's laugh chimed in, and he turned to Stella with the air of a man who has conquered and needs no more words.

      "You see," said Mr. Etheridge, "that is the way I am led, like a pig to market, will I or will I not! And the sketch will take me, how long?"

      "A few hours!"

      "And there will be all the things to drag down——"

      Lord Leicester strode to an old-fashioned cabinet.

      "I will carry them, and yourself into the bargain if you like."

      Then, with his hand upon the cabinet, he stopped short and turned to Stella.

      "I beg your pardon!—I am always sinning. I forgot that there was now a presiding spirit. I am so used to taking liberties with your uncle's belongings; I know where all his paraphernalia is so well, that——"

      Stella rose and smiled at them.

      "Your knowledge is deeper than my uncle's, then," she said. "Do not beg pardon of me."

      "May I?" he said, and he opened the cabinet and took out the sketching-pad and color-box; then, with some difficulty, he disentangled a folding camp-stool from a mass of artistic litter in a corner, and then prepared to depart.

      Mr. Etheridge watched these proceedings with a rueful countenance, but seeing that resistance had long passed out of his power, he said:

      "Where is my hat, Stella? I must go, I suppose."

      Lord Leycester opened the door for her, and she went out, followed by all the dogs, and fetched the soft felt hat, holding it by the very tips of her fingers.

      With a sigh, Mr. Etheridge dropped it on his head.

      "Give me some of the things," he said; but Lord Leycester declined.

      "Not one," he said, laughing. And Mr. Etheridge, without another word, walked out.

      Lord Leycester stood looking at Stella, a wistful eagerness in his eyes.

      "I have gone so far," he said, "that I am emboldened to venture still further. Will you come too?"

      Stella started, and an eager light flashed for a moment in her eyes; then she held out

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