Pygmalion and Calatea.

Otago Witness, Issue 1832, 31 December 1886, Page 11

Pygmalion and Calatea.

A CHRISTMAS IDYL.

By EDWARD WHELPTON,

Author of " Meadow Sweet," &o.

ILEN come along, do. It is too cold to loiter." If the entreaty did not fall on deaf ears, it did not obtain prompt response. Helen Dalgleish still lingered at the shop window, her lips parted, her face lit up with pleasure, interest, and admiration. A work of art had stayed

her foot. " Come here, dear. Do you remember Mrs Franks saying there was a beautiful bust exhibited in a shop window. She said it was that of a young married lady whose husband thought he should like to have something — not a painting, nor a photograph, to be placed in his study, something to remind him in after days of what his wife was in her girlhood." "It is beautiful," assented the younger sister, " it looks like one of those goddesses we see cut in marble." -The elder sister was silent. Abstractedly she read a name on a card, •• AETHUE TOFTE, sculptor." The skill apparent in such a production almost overpowered her. That fingers could be so cunning seemed almost magical. The marble suggested purity, refinement, candour. Surely the man who could be so faultless in his art must have a noble soul. No base mind could effect such felicitous finish, such high achievement. 41 1 wonder," murmured Helen Dalgleish, more to herself, but with her eyes fixed on her sister's face, " what it cost " "Cost?" echoed Nora, "oh! a lofc of money." "That is very vague," rejoined Helen, dreamily, " I wonder how much." " Why,""ridiculed Nora, " are you emulous t Really, Helen." "When I am old someone might prize a record of what I was when young." . There was a strain of desire that rendered her wish pathetic. That future— sb,e l«i|red. that it wtytfd. be. warn 'wftto loTd,

"Wait until you are married, dear," suggested Nora, "your husband may be like Mrs Franks' hero.' l 2

'It is unlikely that another man will think of the same act of homage. Suggested to him, all the delicious character of the tribute would be absent. I wonder what the cost is?" Helen Dalgleish repeated, as she moved slowly and reluctantly away.

"You would learn inside," suggested the practical Nora. " I will ask," decided Helen, turning back " What an odd girl you are," commented Nora, following. "if you get anything in your head, you do not rest. One comfort is, you are never long making up your mind. This was quite a correct estimate of Helen Dalgleish, but if a sister did not know Helen's characteristics, who else was likely ? Orphaned girls, they kept house, a widowed aunt their stay, an uncle by marriage their trustee. Both girls were pretty, slight of form, delicate of feature, Helen carrying the palm. She was finer spun, she was more intellectual, there was mental superiority and stronger will. Nora had less directness, tenacity. She was buoyant, but less impressionable. Helen's nature was not more generous and sympathetic than Nora's, but, unlike Nora, Helen was not to be laughed out of an enterprise even if it approached the quixotic. If her mind had any noble prompting, opposition only tended to make Helen more determined. The fact of the bust being on view in a shop window suggested to her a whole train of possibilities. The artist desired patronage, there was appeal, he was not known, or he had not obtained full recognition. She had means, an income that more than sufficed, she was in a position to encourage talent, to help a straggler on his uphill path. Tears almost, came into her eyes contemplating the possible comfort she could give. She saw the sculptor, grey early, wife and children looking to him ,he anxious and careworn. What if he were a young man launching his bark on the artistic* sea ! It was only a moment that she wavered. What would Nora say if she showed herself faint-hearted 1

Nora did not enter with Helen, but stayed outside, moving in a circumscribed area, tapping her feet, keeping her eyes on her sister in the gloom of the shop. 11 Now 1 " queried Nora, laconically. Helen's face was animated, though her lip quivered slightly. " The terms are not excessive." " And you have decided ? " " Yes. I have left my address. Mr Tofte will wait upon me " " He is ashamed of his surroundings." "I don't know — poverty is not a crime, Nora." " I wonder what Charles will say to it all," escaped Nora. " What right has he to say anything t ' returned Helen warmly. "Too often he speaks without book. He is too cynical and sarcastic." "I must caution him," said^Nora mischievously. " I beg you will do nothing of the kind. I am well able to fight my own battles. Ten o'clock. What possessed Charles that he should put in an appearance so early. It was very annoying. For half an hour Helen Dalgleish had felt nervous and agitated. The appearance of her cousin only added to her discomfort and trepidation. " Ten o'clock," she had written on her card. The clock on the mantel gave the hour with silvery cheerfulness. " What is the matter with you, Helen ? " rallied Charles Ashe, " you are so fidgetty ; one would thing you were expecting a police constable." "Aml to tell 1 " Nora asked. " I must. Charles, Helen has determined to be a patron of the fine arts. She has given a sculptor a commission." " A what? " cried Charles incredulously. Helen was conscious of a tall figure in the street, he glanced at the house, paused a moment, then lightly and quickly ascended the steps. The knock, the ring, almost carried away Helen's last remnant of selfpossession. Charles was inclined to be boisterous, but a glance from Nora quelled him.

" Hush 1 " admonished she, " here he is. I declare, he is quite a young man."

"Mr Arthur Tofte."

" I think I had better see him privately," faltered Helen, with an attempt at loftiness, but a little questioningly. " Oh-h-h," demurred Nora, " when I am dying to see him. Do let us have a peep at your lion before you take him to his cage."

Helen Dalgleish wondered no longer that a man should be so gifted. The work was the man. He carried his head erect, his chin high. Nothing sordid came between ing, lofty : his eyes, with frank outlook, expressing truthful honhomie. What a throat he had, whp't a physique ! The contour of his face was faultless, as remarkable as his chiselled work. A woman might have envied him and his art. His soul was noble, aspirhim his complexion, his azure eyes, his sunny, rippling hair, the lips the flaxen moustache soarcely hid, that had the sweep of Cupid's bow. He was certainly handsome; she had always thought the god's expression peevish ; Apollo had no humour, the merry heart, the tender, sanguine nature were all expressed in the lines above the lips. That he was not a rich man there was sufficient indication, but he had strength of will to allow no thought of his poverty to betray him into any gaucherie.

Helen stole a glance at the pair seated near the window, she was conscious that Nora and Charles were on the gui vive. Charles murmured something to Nora, disparaging or caustic, Helen was sure, for Nora's whisper was one of reproof. Charles' low t hard laugh was purposely audible, and Helen was indignant. Charles found it difficult to behave himself.- He must recollect that he was not the master of the house— yet. Would he ever be ? Why did everyone choose to assume that in due cours* he would be ? She was weary of the harping on that string. Charles irritated her, he never praised anyone, he • was offensively cynical. She found herself making comparisons. Her cousin at the window, thick* set, saturnine, her thin lips contemptuous.

Books, pictures, music, possessing no charm for him, disdainful when conversation ran on such topics. He despised this man — there came to her the resolution to ignore her cousin — so sure of his ground — and extend to his superior her countenance and her sympathy, and reveal to him her appreciation of his talent. " I suppose you will require sittings ? " she began, her voice low. " I am &o Ignorant ; I must beg of you to tell me what will be requisite. When shall I sit for the first time? I suppose I shall have to come to your studio ? " " I have brought clay with me," replied he, with a slight flush of colour. " The fact is I thought it might be more agreeable, the weather is so cold, and my time is not of so much account."

" I am sure that is very considerate," murmured Helen.

" Only perhaps — " he came somewhat awkwardly to a standstill. He looked about him, and she attributed his reluctance to a cause far remote from the real one. It would be a trial to work so overlooked. Really he had compunction, the beautiful room with its luxurious appointments scarcely seemed a proper place to convert into a studio.

" There is the little workroom," mused Helen, " the window is north," informed she, with girlish delight that she had so much knowledge of the artist's requirements. " Perhaps you do not care to work with so many eyes upon you ? " " It was not that," answered he, quickly. This seemed so much like carte blanche that when Helen led the way and Nora rose, Charles followed suit, but Helen had an imperious gesture. " If anyone comes — only Nora." " If 1 am to be robbed, I depart," decided Charles with a pretence of wounded feeling.- " I will call aunt down — oh, here she is."

" Charles has gone," murmured Nora. 11 Has he ? " said Helen, unconcernedly, her eyes on the clay, 'ihe sculptor was already manipulating it, his mind How deft his fingers were ! There was no uncertainty, no indecision. Jn a few moments he began to talk brightly, at his ease, but with a sedateness that had charm. Helen Dalgleish found herself wondering if every artist was so agreeable. It was not that he said so much, but she felt hersef f led into pleasant trains of thought, won over to speak unreservedly. " That is the expression, it will not escape me. There — Miss Dalgleish, I do not wish to tire you. If I could damp this cloth ? " " Nora, the ewer — you would like' to wash your hands." "Thank you — I can wait upon myself. I am used to it." His smile was authoritative, and the girls laughed. " At the same time to-morrow 1 " " If convenient to you,"

He was gone. "What do you think of him?" Helen asked. Her manner was propitiating, solicitous.

" I think you will fall in love with him," Nora returned bluntly, but her eyes dancing.

" What nonsense I " cried Helen, with displeasure. " I am wondering what uncle ■will say to this," Nora murmured. " Perhaps he will not approve. I wonder will Charles tell him ? " " Charles ? " echoed Helen, her eyes impetuous. " Yes, Charles. I could see that he was not pleased." " Why should he be displeased 1 " " Why ? Come, why is he here so much but to pay court to you 1 " Helen's cheekblanched, she felt desperate. Was she to haveno say in the - matter 1 She was determined to endure the persecution no longer. For a moment speech was denied her, so great was her indignation. " Why is it that Charles wishes to marry me ? It is not that he loves me."

" Then why is it ? " questioned Nora.

"It is because I have an income. He would marry me, and if I died take you were it possible, and congratulate himself that he had done good business. You may have him. Nora," said Helen, maliciously, inclined to laugh at her generosity. " I won't have him," responded Nora, viciously, "disagreeable thing 1 I would rather remain single all the days of my life."

Helen Dalgleish wondered if she was in any way culpable. She had received Charles, making no protest, but then she had seen no way of escape. She could not very well forbid him the house ; her uncle had always been good and loyal, never putting himself forward.

Once doubt is raised, one analyses. The situation dawned upon her. Charles' father had not considered it wisdom to be prominent ; at home Charles had his lesson, and the aunt was dragon. That she was partisan there could be no manner of doubt. She had her cue, and to a certain extent dependent, believed it to be her interest to advance her nephew. "Would you marry Mr Tofte?" Helen asked, with an attempt to be impartial.

"It is not likely that he will ask me," Nora returned, " of the two, he would prefer you." A great joy surged up in Helen's breast. Bidiculous it was of Nora to be so outrage lous, but no woman could help feeling satisfaction that, every obstacle removed, she was a man's preference. "You silly girl, how can you say that ?" " I saw it the moment he entered the i room," declared Nora, with conviction. "He had no eyeß for anyone but you, he scarcely spoke to anyone' but you. He would not allow me to be his handmaid, he would prefer to wait upon himself." "He did not speak with any intention of rudeness, rather the reverse."

Ten o'clock. Again Arthur Tofte was punctual. Mrs Sancroft received him. His reception almost chilled him. There was something so frigid in the lady's demeanour, he wondered if on the previous day he had over-stepped the bounds of decorum. He was not long in suspense. The elderly lady expressed her disapproval of her niese's flight. " When Helen is, married she will not have to indulge in such whims. It will not be deferred, much longer now, M 7 nephew is

▼erv good-natured to put up with what he does, and he is her equal in fortune."

There was emphasis on every word. Arthur Tofte realised that he was to consider himself snubbed. His appearance was inopportune, indelicate. Perhaps he deserved so much. He had not harboured the thought of pretension to her niece's hand, but he had been dreaming. He had met a soul, sympathetic, in accord with his own. How full and rich and sweet his life would be with such companionship. But the illusion was dispelled, it could not be ; the present was too empty, the future too vague. He had a chill, the world had grown colder ; he was alone in it, the futuref uture with less promise. " Nora is not down ; you will have to play propriety, aunt." There was challenge in Helen's sentence.

" Helen, Helen !" murmured Mrs Sancroft, reprovingly. The sculptor removed the cloth, and proceeded silently. He had no talk ; to Helen he scarcely seemed the same man, he did not look up when a tap came at the door, but it was clear to her that he heard the whispering.

" Those tiresome Garrods, I would not have them know for the world what is on the way."

Arthur Tofte and his sitter were alone together. • Helen Dalgleish noted the expression on the sculptor's face. It was compounded of soreness and amusement. " If I followed art I should wish to be a sculptor," murmured she, tentatively.

"Itis a life of disappointment. All who follow art are constantly meeting with rebuffs."

" It is a heroic life."

" I don't know — one of infatuation, I think. Once the brush, the pen, or the chisel is taken up, a man is possessed." "Itisas it should be. There should be no looking back. But you are not ill, Mr Tofte ?" she asked, with some anxiety.

A smille illuminated his face.

" i must apologise. lam too thin-skinned. A little thing has occurred which has plunged me into a despondent mood. It is so with me, I am either sanguine or despairing, in the seventh heaven, or deep down at the bottom of the pit. There is no suspension between." He laughed as if he did not find it difficult to make fun of his own peculiarities.

Arthur Tofte marched to his somewhat dismal abode in Sheriff street, the reverse of happy. Turning a street corner he had to give way. "Charles" favoured him with a cold stare and a stiff nod, passing on leisurely as if time and the world were made for him. The accidental meeting did not bring cheerfulness to Arthur Tofte. She was to marry this clown, eaten up with vanity and conceit, his life aimless and utterly selfish. It hurt him, the contemplation of a wasted fragrance. Galatea — he would never give her life. Tofte threw himself back in the one article of effeminacy his cheerless sitting room contained, an American chair. Fool he was to allow his eyes to stray, his mind to wander, his heart to hunger. His eyes were to be strained forward, his purpose one and undivided. Wife? Not until position was assured. He must go to the woman his equal in the opinion of the world. The fact of a woman having a fortune was in itself sufficient to make him hang back. If he loved her he would find it difficult to tell her. She must think there was a mercenary motive, however slight ; that there should be doubt of his single-heartedness would haunt him a lifetime. That woman had brought him to his senses. She was offensive, but she had spoken according to her lights, with natural asperity. There was a family arrangement, his sitter had fallen in with it. Fool, to imagine that she regarded him with any feeling beyond a courteous one, extending favour, smiling encouragement. " I shall not have occasion to come again," he' soliloquised as he raised the knocker, " I must exercise self-control." But he felt his resolution failing him when she spoke. She was so spontaneous, extending her hand as if they were old and tried friends.

"I forgot— the door is locked. I have been so afraid of anyone undoing even by misadventure what you have done that I turned the key and forbade everyone the room."

Arthur Tofte removed the cloth. He could scarcely believe his eyes. The clay had been tampered with. A malevolent hand had done in a moment what looked like irreparable damage. He saw it all, it was to try his temper. Deeply incensed he was to decline to proceed. The plot should not come to fruition, his task should be com-, pleted, the miscreant, confounded.

Helen Dalgleish saw the disfigurement; she was frightened.

" How can it have happened ? " gasped she.

One look at her pain-drawn face and all the anger went out of his. " There has been an accident," he decided, magnanimously. " I am grieved. You will have to do all over again.*' "I think it is not irremediable," said he, touched with her concern.

Something like the old entente cordiale was restored, the resolve to mask his true feeling became impotent. Her eyes were suffused contemplating his generosity and self-effacement. When he took his leave he resigned her hand reluctantly. " After all, it has been the means of prolonging acquaintance,' 7 smiled he, his voice charged with love's melody, " that counts for something with one whose life does not have much relief."

" Nora," said Helen, her voice hard, " did you leave Charles for any length of time last night ? "

" Not for more than five minutes. I left him walking into the dining room ; when I returned he was seated there."

"He is the culprit," decided Helen, her lips compressed.

The weeks passed. The bust was promised for Christmas. Helen Dalgleish wondered if her sculptor would come with it. If^he kept his word, it must soon be in her possession.

"Not come yet, cht! chtl" sneered Charles, "these daubers and ohippers are Idle, procrastinating fellows. Only the

abject need drives them. But our friend had not the appearance of being flush."

" Helen," whispered Nora, "it has come, and it is quite equal to the one we saw in the window." " Where is it ? " Helen asked, with excitement. "In the workroom. I did not know where you would like to have it." "Who brought it?" " A man." "Mr Tofte did not come with it ? " Helen Dalgleish's disappointment was revealed in i her voice. " No." ; "He thinks, had he come, it would look like coming for the money. Sheriff street, Liverpool square, I must not forget his address," mused she, making for the door. " Am I to fetch it here 1" solicited Charles. "No," said Helen curtly, "I would not trust you with it.' 1 Her eyes were scornful. He quailed, he saw. that she eyed him with disdain. . " How choice you are," he returned with a laugh, the sneer in the words, if not in the tone of voice. " Yes, I am," admitted she, coldly. "We have had one casualty." " You are cruel," murmured Nora, " I am sure Charles endeavours to be agreeable." " I will not have dust thrown in my eyes."

" Sheriff street, Liverpool square. Apt name for the street he hangs out in," muttered Charles, as he left the house. He hailed a cab. "Tofte — I do know the fellow's name. I shall get at the number of the house."

In his blouse and fez Arthur Tofte looked like a handsome Greek. But at the sight of his visitor the expression of attentive inquiry changed to one cold and distant.

" Miss Dalgleish is pleased with her bust," began Charles, oilily. " I come to meet all dues and demands."

" Very good," returned the sculptor, coldly. For the remuneration to come through this fellow was gall indeed. Could she not have sent on her cheque, or her trustees, if she did not draw. She was at liberty to choose her messenger, but it looked very much like a conge ' • " What — ah, what were the terms agreed upon," stammered Charles, uncomfortable with those eagle eyes fixed upon him. "Did not Miss Dalgleish inform you?" A possibility dawned upon Arthur Tofte. He felt his heart stir within him.

" It has escaped me — the fact is, it was to be my little Christmas gift. She seemed to admire your work — "

"Mr Ashe, I believe. Pardon me, if I think you come to me with a lame st6ry. I have the impression that you are not an accredited messenger." . " air ," Charles' Bhow of indignation got no further. '• What matters who pays so that you are paid," urged he with less heat. "That is my affair. The clay was damaged just at completion. The face bad to be re-modelled." Arthur Tofte, with eyelids drooping, his countenance stern, watched his caller. Charles Ashe could not prevent the pallor overspreading his face. " What have I to do with that 1 " blustered he. Arthur Tofte waved his hand impatiently, and Charles, taking up his hat, moved back a pace or two. " I am to understand you refuse my cheque ? If so, it is a waste of time stopping here." " That is it, precisely." " All I have to say, then, is that you deserve to remain unpaid." " I might have a worse outstanding debt." " I see," said Charles with a sneer, " you have gathered information, probably visited Doctor's Commons, eh ? I may as well acquaint you that you are too late in die day. If I were not to marry Miss Dalgleish before j she is many months older, she has a vigilant trustee."

" Your father, I presume. I am the fur-tune-hunter, you infer ? "

" That is it, precisely," mocked Charles. Arthur Tofte dropped into his chair wearily. " I think you had better go. lam longsuffering, but I may be tempted." "To what?" demanded Charles, arrogantly, advancing a step. " To kick you down every step of the stairs and into the street," said Arthur Tofte rising, his eyes blazing, " and by Heaven I will, if you don't make the best use of your time." " I thought you might have urgent need of the money." Charles Ashe took a contemptuous, and .comprehensive glance around, but his hand prudently sought the door. " I don't think my supposition is incorrect.' His venom prompted him to supplement his insolence with other remarks of an equally objectionable character, but Arthur Tofte's attitude convinced him that the sculptor laid claim to a quality which he did not possess. There was menace in his forward stride.

At that moment a cab stopped at the sculptor's door and a lady was admitted.

" Charles ?' exclaimed Helen Dalgleish, with some warmth. It was surprise and questioning, a demand why she found him there.

" I came to pay your sculptor's charges," said Charles, recovering himself. "I — I wished the bust to be my Christmas gift, but I have found him difficult. You may find him less so," sneered he, unable to repress his rage. " I wish you would learn, once and for all, that I prefer to meet my engagements myself, responded Helen, her eyes flashing. "May I wait for you ?" pleaded he, sulkily.

" No, t am much too angry with you for your interference, returned she coldly. Arthur Tofte heard every word. When the door closed on the discomfited cousin, he descended the flight.

" I am afraid my cousin has been vial, apropos once again," said Helen Dalgleish with some* soreness.

" Perhaps I ought to be ashamed to admit that I have allowed my temper to be ruffled." It was with a subdued joy he realised that in her mind was the damaged clay ; it was quite clear to him that she had singled out or had a clue to the culprit. ' •• I hope you have read him a lesson. He

went off so hurriedly I was suspicious. He heard me murmur your address. I intended sending on my cheque by post, but I decided to bring it in person. The bust is really beautiful — I mean the execution," corrected she, her colour rising, " I am so pleased with it. I think it surpasses the one that tempted me." She did not offer him the enclosure, but placed the envelope on the table. There was hesitation, a shy silence, her eyes liquid, she had more to say. " I have a request to make " she faltered, his attention forced rather than encouraged her to proceed — "it is that you dine with us on Christmas Day." Her eyes were wistful, but her heart sank, he was so slow to answer. "We are always home birds on that day" — it was her last lure, " you will not meet with anyone likely to be - unpleasant." Arthur Tofte still maintained an ominous silence. His poverty rose up before him. He felt it hard to be unkind, but if he accepted he would not be able to answer for himself.

"It seems a hard thing that one person should gain a knowledge of another, then each go their way. If you do not accept, I shall be inclined to think we are included in your just resentment." "Do not think that," returned he with hasty disclaimer, " I cannot accept, I must beg of you to excuse me."

His manner was almost brusque. Helen Dalgleish felt herself repulsed. " I am sorry," faltered she, " I did so count upon your coming." It was ag if Arthur Tofte did not hear. He accompanied her to the waiting cab, bowed, and murmured his farewell, but his face was sad, his manner abstracted. He did not see Nora inside, muffled from th« cold, or if he did, his eyesight conveyed nothing t"> his mind. " Won't he come ?" Nora asked. " No," returned Helen, crestfallen.

" Beast "

"How can you, Nora?" Helen spoke sharply.

"He never spoke or moved to me. It makes one feel as if one had done something immodest."

" He did not see you," championed Helen.

" Nor did Charles. I drew back when I saw him come out. What a scowl he had on his face 1 You were right after all."

"It is Charles who is the beast. He has said something cruel. I hate him."

" Who— Mr Tofte ?" Nora raised her eyebrows.

" You know who I mean," Helen rejoined severely. Arthur Tofte walked into his atelier and uncovered a bust. It was to be his masterpiece.- A blow and it would be shattered. He took up a mallet, but had not the heart to use it. An improvement suggested itself : the nostrils scarcely seemed to indicate sufficiently an excess of sensitiveness. But he was not in a working mood, dispirited lie moved to his sitting room, and filling his pipe, dropped into his chair. He had never felt more heart-slain, more weary of the struggle. Christmas Eve 1 A merry Christmas 1 Mirth was not for him, nor jollity. He could scarcely bring himself to believe that it was other than delusion, a season of make-believe. Why should anyone be happier in the depth of winter than in the middle of July ? His mind out of tune, he could not look back to any particularly bright Christmas. There had always been a discontent. His successive Christmas Eves only told him that time was on the wing, that yet the world knew little of him. After all these plodding years had he advanced so much beyond utter obscurity. A country doctor, lawyer, would have in the time established himself. Ah ! he had had his way, he had been regarded as but one remove from a lunatic, he had been helped. He had kept the wolf from the door, his little inheritance eking out his scanty earnings, but the store was almost exhausted. Marry — the idea was preposterous. The pipe burned out, it dropped from his 'fingers, faintness and wearinesa overpowered him.

A voice awoke him. How long he had slept he had not the remotest idea, but it was dusk, and the lamps were lit out" in the street. A shudder went through his frame.

" You are cold, sir ; your fiie has gone low I thought you must he faint, for you haven't been out this day. I made bold to bring in your tea earlier." "Thank yon, very much," responded ho, gratefully. After all it was but a dream. But so real had been his visionary experience that he found it difficult that it was mockery. In his sleep there was tragedy. Hehad witnessed Helen Dalgleish 's marriage; at the alter her hands were extended to him • in agonised appeal, but some subtle power restrained him from making any sign, from hastening to her deliverance. He saw the cruel triumph on the bridegroom's face, the . sneer of defiance, the arrogant exultation.""'' His blood had boiled when the girl's hand was snatched and the fatal ring mercilessly thrust, on. Her wail of despair was in his ears. -

His " Galatea " had won him fame ; it had been the talk of the town. He had more work than he could get through. But tidings came to him, the husband of the unwilling bride, spendthrift, cruel, a debauchee, had thrown off the mask, he was dragging her down to a life of penury and fear. The same subtle force prevented him going to her. Daily he cried out with remorse, He was culpable, had he conquered foolish reserve, a quixotic independence, he might have been happy and she secure. Charles Ashe's lineaments rose up before him. There was no promise in the man's face. Arthur Tofte arrived at sudden deter* minafion.

" I have a letter to write. I should like it delivered to-night. Can you find someone to go with it ? " Hurriedly he dashed off a few lines. H« looked at them but would not read them lest he should waver.

••Dear Miss Dalgleish," the note ran; "perhaps this afternoon I was ungrateful, churlish. Humbly, I entreat forgiveness. If I have not forfeited all consideration I will withdraw my refusal. May I come ? X should like to frame an excuse for my strange conduct; some day reveal what

brought me to my senses.— Sincerely yours, " Arthuu Tofte." The messenger brought back a reply. It was in pencil. There was only one word and a signature. "Come. Helen Dalgleish." Christmas Eve ! The room, the street had a cheerier aspect.- He turned-in with a feeling of chastened peace and awoke to the bells of a neighbouring church proclaiming joyfully the natal day. He looked out of the window ; the street was invested with subdued and subtle ' charm. There seemed

in the air protest against discordant noises, against "even the diminished traffic. Then he had qualms, it behoves a man that his last groat shall go in making himself presentable when he is to meet fair and beautiful women. He recollected that his clothes were time-worn and his shoes ancient. What matter ! There shoiild be no pretence, he had not a rent-roll, he wished her to fully apprehend that he came • deficient in everything but sincerity. His step was light, he could not repress the feeling of hope and courage. When he reached the house he was unconscious that »was not the best-dressed diner-out that day. look and words of welcome almost carried him off his feet, and the younger sister spoke as if her "delight almost- overpowered her. To his surprise the hard-faced aunt wa3 civil, but doubtless she had had her

" I was so happy when I received your note," Helen Dalgleish confessed that evening. . " Had you remained firm, I should always, have thought that you had been wounded past all healing." " I am glad that my good angel whispered in my ear," responded he. "But you bave not yet framed your excuse?"

" Do you press for it V " I should like to have it," urged she. " I feel that there must have been cause for your

"There was," returned he, slowly, "and still perhaps I have been unwise to come. I must speak," said he desperately, "if after what I have said you bid me begone, I shall not think you other than justified, and that I have been guilty of presumption. I assumed a mask. I felt that it would be

dangerous for me to come, that I shonld not be able to exercise command over myself. Helen, it was that I felt that I already loved you. I had no right to make an appeal* You were about to make an equal marriage. I was poor. I had no right to Btep in." " Who told you this, Charles ? ' "No matter. Is it so ?"

"But no, turn me. away," implored he.

Virtually I have no future. There is disparity, I am horribly poor, my status cannot be overlooked."

" Why not ?" queried she, gently, her eyes meeting his with encouragement, with remonstrative sympathy. " You for.cc me to cast myself at your feet, Helen " — the • barrier was completely broken down—" my own dear love !"

A cry of joy escaped her. He had folded her in his arms, his eyes full of fervid adoration, his lips meeting hers with passionate greed and ardour. " My darling, the sacrifice is too great — '' "Leave me," challenged she, her voice exultant, "be faint-hearted and resign me to a rival." She had a gesture of mock repulse. " Never," declared he with energy, " without you life for me, now, would be without hope, with the ever-present knowledge that you were his, it would be martyrdom." " Is this what brought you to your senses ? Tell me all." -

-."Not now," said he gently. "It was a dream, and I awoke bafched in perspiration ; it was terrible." What was it to Helen Tofte if determination was expressed to wash hands of the ungrateful and the headstrong ? What was it to her if the aunt elected to take sides with the faction that trumpeted abroad an outrage against good taste, if not decorum. Actually the man had not a home to take her to ; she would find out to her cost the mistake she had made.

For three months after her marriage Helen

Tofte was devoured with a feeling that was

closely akin to heart-burning, if not to jealousy. - Her husband had expressed desire that she should not uncover a certain bust.

His word was law and she obeyed him, but

she felt it very hard. She was piqued, if nothing more. Why did he place such an embargo on the mysterious marble? She was relieved when it was taken away.

The Academy was open. Her hand was on her husband's arm.

" What is that crowd pressing aroutd ?"

Arthur Tofte felt his heart beating fast. His held her hand tightly. She looked in his face, he was pallid, there was excitement to the verge of pain. "You are ill T " No— look at the catalogue. What stands there ?" " No. 1950. Galatea. Arthur Tofte." "It is yours," said she, with suppressed excitement — " the bust you expressed a wish that I should not uncover. lam to see it here for the first time ?" '- He had recovered himself, his face was lit up with modest- triumph. He nodded affectionately. It Beeraed as if way was ntarie for them. Those who were unconscious answered to

the touch on the shoulder. Helen Tofte felt

as if in a dream, It was her own face, idealised, etherealised. The true artist only can achieve the marvellous effect. Her

blushes deepened when she saw that she was not alone in her recognition of the model.

"How could yon, Arthur?" murmured she, with soft remonstrance.

"How could I not?" he answered her fondly, his sonl in his eyes. " I had no will of my own. I had you always with me. A subtle force, I think, inspired me."

: - The eyes of two lovers met, a thrill went : through' each frame, the mystical bond was complete.

THB'ENp,