ANDROMEDA.

Otago Witness, Issue 2396, 1 February 1900, Page 53

ANDROMEDA.

A TALE OF THE GREAT RIVER.

By ROBERT BUCHANAN,

Author of "God and the Man," "The Shadow of the Sword," "StormyWaters," "The Wedding Ring,' "Father Anthony," "Lady Kilpatrick," etc., etc.

COPYRIGHT.

CHAPTER XII.— AN AFTERNOON

CALL.

HE moment the manservant left the room Bess also made a movement towards the door, saying : " I'd better go. You'd like to see him alone."' And Annie offered no objection ; she felt, indeed, that the presence of

even Bess would be irk&ome,

at such a time. When Somerset entered hat in hand a minute later, he found Annie seated in an armchair near the window, with her eyes fixed upon a book which s=he held in her hand, and so well had she mastered her emotion that he did not notice that she was trembling, and that her face was unusually pale.

While he stood hesitating in wonder, she rose and held out her hand.

" So you've come to see me after all? " she said, smiling. "Did you think I would not?" was his reply. He hardly knew what to say ; he Avas so taken aback by her cplm air of ladylike self-possession. It was go difficult to believe that sho was the same person whom he had encountered among the wilds of Canvey.

There was an awkward pause, during which he continued to grasp her hand and to look wonderingly into her face. Her dark eyes met his quite fearlessly ; then her face flushed slightly, and, drawing her .hand' away, she motioned him to a chair. He sat down and stared.

" How are they all at the Island? "' he stammered. " Kow's old Job, and dear old Mother Endell? "

" Quite well, I believe," she answered, moving towards the window and looking at him with her face in shadow. " They ■were all right at any rate when I last heard from them. I've been in London for some time. '

He was dying to question her concerning herself, but he had not the courage. He began, awkwardly enough, to tell her how astonished he had been when he first recogni&ed her in the street, and how impossible it had seemed to him that she could be his lonner acquaintance. She listened to him quietly while he uttered the usual polite commonplaces of an ordinary caller ; then, as he struggled more and more in the meshes of his embarrn&sment, the humour of the situation seized her, and j-he broke into a peal of laughter, turning her face away. In an instant the spell was broken, and he sprang up with extended arms.

"Annie"!" he said, "'don't laugh at me. Tell me what has happened. Tell me why it is that I find yo\i here in London." Still laughing, she waved him back.

" You must behave yourself," she said, " or I shall be sorry I invited you to call. London isn't Canvey Island ! " " More's the pity ! " he exclaimed ; " but the Annie I met at Canvey — the dear little girl I've so often thought of sinee — was the same Annie who met me last night at the theatre, and who told me, or at least convej r ed to me, that she was married ! Are you married? I can't believe it possible! ' She laughed still, but very differently ; her face had darkened, and there was the old angry flash in her eyes.

" I wish you wouldn't question me ! " she said. " Suppose lam married — what then? It doesn't joatler, does it?" She added

carelessly, " How's your friend, Mr Bufton? -As funny and cross as ever?"' Their eyes met, and he made another step towards her, but she sailed past him and crorsed the room ; then, turning on the he.irthrug and gazing at him earnestly, she cried, " Suppose I ask you the same question, Mr Somerset? Are you married yet? You know you told me you were going to be — to your cousin, wasn't it?" " Oh, I'm still a bachelor," he replied, " and likely to remain so. Much too hard up to think of matrimony, even if my fancy turned that way. You see, Annie, I'm a poor painter — a very poor painter, that cynic Bufton expresses it — and I have to work very haid to keep body and soul together. That reminds me that you mu&t come and see me at the studic — it's only a stone's throw away. I should like to show you .some of my sketches ; and — .md " He paused with a flush, remembering suddenly his study of Andromeda, the picture painted fiom memory and hanging at that moment on his easel.

' How clever you must be," v she said softly, "to paint such beautiful pictures ! It must be splendid to be an artist ! "'

" Billy &ays I'm only a duffer," answered Somerset, now completely at his ease, and recovering much of his old impudence. " Of course, I know I'm not a heaven-born genius. — very few of us are that. But I know the tricks of the trade, and some day I shall do something decent. But let us talk of yourself — a subject far more interesting. I want you to explain to me "'

She interrupted him,

" I suppose I'd better do so, or you'll never be satisfied," she said, sinking into a chair. " Since we met on Ganvey, I've been left some money — a good deal of money for a girl like me — and I've come to London to spend it — some of it, at any rate. I was sick and tired of living down yonder like a savage ; I was just going to run away when I heard the news.'' "I congratulate you,' said Somerset. " But who lefb you the money ? Some relation? "

"A sort of relation," answered Annie, looking down.

" That explains something, but not everything. You've changed your surname. Is it possible that you're married? "' For nearly a "minute she did not answer, but continued to look down ; then, as he leant eagerly towards her, she raised her eyes and looked into his face. Her brow had darkened and she was very pale. " Yes, Mr Somerset," she answered, " I was mariied -when we met on Canvey! "

'"Married then? You don't mean it! " he exclaimed.

"It's true though — and the person who left me the money is the man I married. It was years and years ago, when I was only 16 : and directly after the marriage he went away to sea, and I didn't think it a real marriage at all, till I got news the other day that he was dead.''

She had drawn her chair close to the table, and leaning on one elbow rested her cheek on her hand. Her voice was low and weary, and her whole manner strangely sorrowful and subdued ; but her eyes still met his with the old frank fearlessness.

" liow strange ! " he murmured. " Married, and so young ; and now you say you are a widow. It sounds like a fairy tale."

"It doesn't seem real even to me." said Annie. "It seems like something that happened in a dream ; and, indeed, all my life seems much about the same. Often and often, when I've thought of it, I've wished I'd never been born."

Then, as he continued to question her, she told him, still with the same air of weariness, the whole story of her childhood — how Matthew Watron had brought her home, how she had been reared in his sister's house, and how, finally, she had gone through the marriage ceremony with him before he departed on his last voyage. As she proceeded her voice broke, and her dark eyes filled with tears, but all her emotion there was a curious tone of anger and resentment, not unmingled with shame and dread ; and she never mentioned her husband without a kind of shudder, as if she shrank from the thought of him, the veiy mention of his name.

When she ended, Somerset, who had risen to his feet and stood looking down at her, said quietly :

" Then you're maid, wife, and widow, all in one i I suppose you parted at the church door? "

" Something like that," she replied. "He went away directly afterwards, and I'd almost forgotten all about it when the news came that he was dead." She added quickly, "I am sure I don't know why I tell you all this, since it's no concern of yours.' 5 " It's very much my concern," he answered gently, taking her hand in his. "'How's that?' 1 fche said, with a flash of the dark eye=. " Because — because ' He said no more, but bent his face towards her as he pressed her hand.

"' Oh, that's all nonsense,"' she cried, releasing herself and lising quickly. " You're a gentleman, and I'm onlj* Matt Watson's girl. Please don't let us talk of it any more. It makes me r-ick. You'd better go now, Mr {Somerset. I'm very glad indeed to have met you again ; but now we'll say good-bye."

" Annie,*' he .said, as she turned away from him trembling, "do you remember that day I followed you over the marshes towards Benfieet? Do you remember the kiss you gave me before we narted?"

Did ?he remember? Her face answered him without a single word, and for a moment she averted lieu liend. but almost instantly she turned and looked at him, her ej'es full of passionate light. "Did you think I'd forgotten?" she replied, " and do j-ou think I'm ashamed to remember? I know I kissed you, and I don't care. I liked you ;' I liked you from the time we first met. But that's oil over now. isn't it? This isn't Canvey Island."

"I wish to God it was!" cried Somer-

" Wishing won't mend things. You've got to go your way, and Ive got to go mine. Perhaps it's a pity we ever met again. Perhaps it will be better for us never to meet any, more! Oh, don't, don't. I can't bear it ! r

The last cry turned into a sob ; for fis had caught her in his arms, and was( showering his kisses on her face. She( struggled for a moment, then, unable ta control the impulse of her happiness, slid! rested q\iietlv in his embrace.

" Annie, dear," he whispered, " whore iS" the need for you to talk like that, when* you know you re a free woman? I believe 1 it is> Fate that has brought us again to-* gether ! At any rate, I know now thai' I love you better than any woman in thd world ! " " You don't mean that? You can't mean! it ! "' V

" But I do. When I saw you first I thought you beautiful, so beautiful that I could only look at you and Avonder ; bufc then I remembered too late that I had: pledged myself to someone else, and so, like a coward, I ran aAvay. But I didn't forgeti you, hard as I t»ed to do so ! Your face Avas always with me, and the touch of your kiss upon my lips. I couldn't work ; I couldn't tske an interest in anything ; I Avent about mooning like a man in a dreanii Then, when I Avas half-crazy, I saw you again, as beautiful as before, and it Avas all over Avith me for ever. Yes, that's it," he added, .with a touch of his old lightness, " there is 'no use fighting against the inevitable ! Tne gods have settled it : the only woman in the Avorld for me is my Andromeda ! "

'■ Don't call me that," she murmured " Call me Annie ! "

"My Annie, then, if you like it better ! " he said, drawing her close to him. • " But your cousin — the lady you " - "Which Avould be the more wicked?" ha inquired. "To marry her Avithout caring for her, and make. Both her and myself miserable, or to tell her frankly that I care for someone else? You see, it has only been a sort of family arrangement,. We drifted into it before we kneAv what Aye Avere about. I don't fancy she'll mind very much — she'll only be a little piqued !" "I don't believe that," said Annie, gently disengaging herself from his hold, " and if she loves you, as I believe she must, it Avouldn't be right to break your word. Besides, as I told you before, you're a gentleman, and I'm only Matt Watson's AvidoAV. I ahvays kneAv nothing could come of it, nothing but trouble ; but for all that I'm glad, I can't tell you hoAv glad, to think that you like me, and that if I'd been a lady "'

" A lady ! " repeated Somerset. " You're better than that. At the theatre last nigh!; you looked like a princess ! Come, Annip, there's no escape ; I'm not going to let anyone else run n.v ay with you ! "

She smiled and looked delighted, fur never, indeed, had she felt so happy ; bvt looking at him wistfully she asked :

" Then you don't mind my being married? "

" Such a marriage as that doesn't count, 1 ' he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Of course I should like it better if nothing of the sort had ever taken place ; but after all, you Avere only a child, and since the mm is dead,, and can never return to claim you "

'" He died out in America," said Annie, eagerly, " and before he died, he left mo ail his money. It Avas Aery good of him, wasn't it V *

" AAvfully good," returned Somerset ; but his face daikened, and he turned away as if distressed.

There, noAv, you're angry ! " she cried. " I knew you Avould be Avhen you knew ! '

" No, no, you're quite mistaken. What I Avas thinking of Avas this — now you've got money, my clear, it m^kes things lathei more difficult. Some people would think it mean of me to come after you under the circumstances, for you see, I'm only a poor deA-il of an artist, and they might ianc" "

" 'No one Avould think that ! " she cried; " and n they did, it wouldn't be true ! " " Certainly it Avouldn't. But all the same, my dear, I Avant you to understand that I'm not going to take advantage of youi good nature. I'm not asking you to marry me iioav, and I shan't ask you till my position is very different ; but if you care foj me enough to Avait for me, and to giv< me a chance of establishing myself in th< Avorld) Avhy then," he added Avith a laugh, " Aye can .snap our fingers at everybody. " At this moment the door opened, and Mrs Major Garth orne, resplendently attired, sailed into the room. On seeing Somerset she dreAv back Avith a dignified gesture o; surprise, and seemed about to withdraw ; but Annie, smiling' samsAvhat nervously, called her back and introduced her. "My friend Mrs Gartaome. Mrs C4arthorne, this is, Mr Somerset, Avhom I met last nierht at the theatre."

The lady gave a stately bow, which Somerset returned, smilingly. Then, conscious of the embarrassment caused by her intrusion, Mrs Gorchorne again moved toAvards the door, and Avith a little significant cough, to imply that ,<-he kneAv herself to be "de trop," and another stately inclination, disappeared. "Who's the dragon?" asked Somerset, Aviih twinkling eyes. Annie explained, and the A'oung man seemed mightily amused. '" My dear Annie,'' he cried, " vvhas on earth can you want Avith a chaperon like that? For"my part, I much prefer Mjtber Endell! '

'" She has been very kind to me, ' answered Annie, "and she kno^s .xl 1 shout London. There, now you're ] niching at

His <u - m stole round her Avai3'

" What a queer Avorld it is ! " he said, drawing her close to him. She thought it a very sweet world, as he lieiu down bis head and kissed her on the lips.

CHAPTER XIV

—AT THE STCT>IO.

Early on the forenoon of the following day Somerset burst into the studio, holing radiant and handsome as a young sod. Bufton was hard at Avork as usual, bus* on an unfinished landscape, the sketch of Avhich he had made on Canvey Island. Leroy was at the club, mildly enjoying his triumph as the theatrical hero of the hour.

The cynic saw in a moment that some* thing unusual \voA occurred ; but ho sauls nothing, only smiling to himself as Somer-! set. sincine aloud from sheer ftauiuc/rv

heat, threw off his coat; donned his linen v painting jacket, and began working-, with Bushed cheek and 1 eager hands, on ' tKe unfinished picture of Andro- . meda. At last, with an eager j fcry-j he threw his palette and painting brush away, and began striding up and down the room.

, "Ifs no use," he at last exclaimed, "I !can't do it — I'm a duffer."

"'So you've discovered it at last?" said [Bufton.

, "You may chaff your fill, Billy; but there- are some subjects which are beyond the power of even genius — and that's one ! " [Here he pointed to the canvas. " Besides, it's profanity to attempt such, a picture — downright profanity. It was like my cheek to think of it ! "

He threw himself into a chair, and leaning back continued,

"From this time forAAfcird, however, I'm going to work in good earnest. No more Riling — no more dawdling at the clubs ! I've got my living to earn, and in order to ensure that most desirable object, I shall devote myself for a time to potboilers. Then, when my worldly position is secure, I shall return to high art, and paint to please myself! "

Bufton only grunted, and made no comment, for he felt certain that something •more was coming. After a pause, the young man said, with a forced laugfi, "Did I tell you that I'd' seen her again? " "Seen whom?" queried Bufton, though he knew perfectly well to whom his friend was alluding. - "My Annie — my Andromeda ! She's staying at rather a swagger boardinghouse in Bloomsbury. I think- 1 told you that she had come into some money? " Yes," answered Bufton, " and that she ,was a married woman." " Just so," answered Somerset, thoughtfully. "A married woman, if you like to put it in that way. But between you and me, Billy, she's only a very little bit married, and the littel bit don't count. If you'll proniise not to make nasty remarks, I'll tell you all about it." ■ Bufton did not promise anything of the kind, being quite certain that Somerset was dying to communicate his information. Before °many minutes had passed he knew as much as Somerset himself about Annie's extraordinary marriage and subsequent history. " It's ouite a romance, you see," Somerset observed" when he had finished the explanation. "Didn't I always tell you that she .was no ordinary girl? I shouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be " "Of noble birth, and all that sort of thing," interposed Bufton with a chuckle. "The regular stereotyped heroine of a penny dreadful! Make your mind easy — these things don't happen. It's a queer story, 'though, and the most interesting figure in it, to my fancy, is that poor devil of a sailor who brought the girl up." " Yes, I suppose he wasn't a bad sort," said Somerset, dubiously. "A bad sort?- He was a trump,' I tell you. It's not every man who would rescue a strange brat, and educate* it, and look after it like a father, as this fellow did. So he married her, did he? -Well, he might have done- worse* Was she fond of him? "

" How could she be? He was old enough to be her father ! "

" Humph ! That's what she tells you ; liut women are queer cattle, and " "Annie was only a child," exclaimed Somerset, angrily. "She was 16," returned Bufton, dryly, " and from what I've seen of her she must have been precocious. Is she certain that the poor chap is dead? " "Oh, quite certain. He died in Alaska, leaving her everything he possessed." " Didn't I tell you he was a trump ! I j.ike that fellow. I should like to shake him by the hand." This ebullition of opinion on the part of Bufton rather disconcerted his hearer, who rose again to his feet, and began pacing up and down the studio.

" Well, what next? "- demanded Bufton, watching him keenly. " I suppose the little fool has had her head turned with her good fortune, and is spending the money without so much as a thought for the man ■who left it to her? What's she doing in London, dressed up like a fine lady? Why didn't she stop in the country and, if she must marry again, pick Tip some decent fellow in her own walk in life? "

"Who said she was going to marry again ? " cried Somerset, angrily. " What beastly things you say! You haven't a grain of sentiment! "

Bufton grinned diabolically, and was about to reply, when there was a tap at the studio door, which opened softly to admit two ladies, who stood hesitating on the threshold. One was a grave, sharpfeatured matron of about 50, dressed in widow's weeds ; the other a young girl of about 20, tall, slightly built, and elegantly -attired, wearing a long cloak of sealskin and a coquettish little hat to match, of he same material.

"May we come in?" said the elder lady, smilingi and suiting the action to the word.

" Come in? Of course," returned Somerset, crossing to meet her. "My dear mother, whatever brings you here? Ethel, too? This is a surprise! "'

Judging from his expression, the surprise did not seem an altogether pleasant one ; but he forced a smile, while glancing rather uneasily at Bufton, with whom the -elder lady Avas shaking hands. "We were in the neighbourhood," said Mrs Somerset, " and Ethel thought we might look in. I hope we're not interfering with your work? " "Not at all," answered Bufton, offering her a chair. "We were only talking — I was giving your son good advice and being hanged for my pains, as usual." As he spoke, the younger lady was glancing curiously around the studio. She was decidedly good-looking, with clear, well-cut features, x*eddish auburn hair, a somewhat .pronounced nose and fine grey eyes, bub being short-sighted she used an eyeglass, which she held in her hand by its tortoiseshell handle, and placed before her eyes from time to time. She had a habit, moreover, of half-closing her eyelids when looking closely at anything, and this, combined jwith a somewhat scornful curve of the lips,

made her look at once highbred and super.cilious.

" Well, how are you? " she asked carelessly, looking' with a half smile at Somerset. " All right, I hope, and not working your poor self to death? You never invited me to see the studio — so I" thought I'd invite myself. You don't mind?"

"Of course not," replied Somerset. "I'm delighted. Won't you — won't you sit clown? "

" No, thank you. I've been driving with aunt all the morning, and prefer to stand or move about. What are you working at? Something new?"

So saying, she again looked round the studio, glancing at the finished and unfinisheu canvases, the lay figure, the books and sketches scattered about, until suddenly her ej'es fell on the unfinished picture of the Andromeda. In a moment her face grew mischievous, and up went the eyeglass.

" Oh ! " 'she said in mock surprise, while Somerset flushed red with annoyance. "Is that a fancy sketch, or a study from the life? "

"Ethel!" cried Mrs Somerset. " Oh, Charlie doesn't mind me, aunt — he knows I'm not a prude. What's the subject, Charlie? Something antique?" " The subject of that masterpiece," said Bufton, laughing, "is Andromeda — the Grecian Princess who was chained to a rook in order that she might be eaten by a sea-monster ! "

" Oh, indeed ! " returned Ethel, calmly continuing her scrutiny. "I think I remember. Perseus or somebody came and rescued her, didn't he? But where's Perseust, and where's the monster? All I see is a very pink lady, in the costume -,of the Bath !

With an angry exclamation Somerset ■strode across the room and threw a cloth over the canvas. Ethel laughed lightly, then shrugged her shoulders, while the elder lady vainly motioned her to be silent.

" Never mind, Charlie," continued Ethel, turning and looking at him through her eyeglass, as coolly as she had looked at the picture, " I'm not at all shocked ! One gets well seasoned, you know, at both the Academy and the Salon ! But I always wonder where our artists get such subjects? They can't manufacture them out of their own heads ! "

" They da, though, very often," exclaimed Bufton, while Somerset, red and furious, bit his lips to subdue his mortification. " You see, the antique comes easy to most of us, because it can't be judged by ordinary standards of experience. You'd perceive at once if a. street urchin or a modern young lady were out of character or out of drawing, but you can't apply the same tests of accuracy to an unreal goddess."

" But people, real people, sit for such subjects, dont they?" persisted Ethel, with a sly glance at Somerset. "In the costume of the Bath, I mean?"

" Ethel ! Ethel ! " cried Mrs Somerset, " you are really dreadful ! "

"Oh, aunt," replied Ethel, "if* such pictures are not fit to he discussed they're surely not fit to toe painted. Unto the pure, however, all things are pure." Eh, Mr Bufton? "

" Decidedly ! " cried Bufton,

" Then Avhy should Charlie be so annoyed with me for looking at that picture? I'm sure I see no harm in it if he doesn't. ' Honi soit gui mal y pense,' you know." By this time Somerset had recovered himself.

''My dear Ethel," he said, "I'm not the least bit annoyed. I suppose I'm a little thin-skinned, and I — well, I thought you were chaffing. Come, let's talk of something else. Shall I get you something to take — a glass 1 of wine, or a cup of tea? "

" Not for me, thank you. I think we must be going. We only just dropped In to see what you were about."

" Like angels' visits, short and far between," interposed Bufton.

" Not much of that sort of thing about me, I'm afraid," the girl replied, laughing. " To tell you the truth, Mr Bufton, I was curious. I'd read such dreadful things about artists and artists' studios, and I wanted to see with my own eyes what Charlie's workshop was like." Here she raised the eyeglass and glanced again round the' studio. " I don't see anything very improper. Things are a little chaotic and not particularly clean, that's all. With the help of a charwoman the place might be made to look quite respectable."

As she spoke lightly and airily her eyes fell on a piano standing in a, corner of the room — an old semi-grand, on the top of which were piled all sorts of odds and ends.

"Why, there's actually a piano!" she exclaimed, walking over to the instrument and throwing it open ; then, moving her fingers rapidly over the keys she continued, " Awfully out of tune, as I expected."

" Ifs not often used," explained Bufton. " Leroy plays a little, and now and then one of the models amuses herself with it."

Meantime Ethel had drawn a chair to the piano, no music stool being available, and seating herself had taken off her gloves and begun to play. It was clear that she was an accomplished musician. She began Avith the air of an old German folk-song, passed from that to the motif of a sonata by Beethoven, and then, without the slightest transition, struck the notes of a street song, then very popular — "In the Strand."

"My dear Ethel," cried Mrs Somerset, " for goodness' sake don't play that horribly vulgar thing ! If you must play, let it be something different. You know how Charles loves to hear you when you play those lovely sonatas." "Do you, Charlie?" asked Ethel, glancing over her shoulder. " Of course I do ! '' said Somerset, with a lame, attempt at tenderness.

Ethel replied by laughing merrily and plunging into another popular and equally vulgar air; then springing up, she cried: " What a horrid piano ! One could get as much music out of a tin kettle. Well, aunt, are you ready to toddle?"

Mrs Somerset gasped and looked imploringly at her companion. After a little more careless conversation, ending with a promise on Somerset's part to look round

on his mother that evening, the two ladies departed. At the door Ethel held up her cheek, and the young man just touched it with his lips. She half-closed her eyes and looked at him quietly with the critical air peculiar to her, and then with a little shrug tripped away. Somerset re-entered the studio looking as haggard and upset as if he had seen a ghost. Bufton had settled himself again to work, but had lighted his pipe. He glanced up quickly, and the eyes of the two men met. Somerset groaned.

"You see how the land lies, Billy? I'm the most miserable fellow in creation ! "

" What's the matter -with you? " demanded the cynic. "■ As if you need to ask," said Somerset. " I'm engaged to marry my cousin Ethel, and I've given my heart and soul to another woman ! How the devil am I to get out of it? Tell me that. For God's sake don't chaff me, old fellow, but give me your honest advice."

Bufton pulled at his pipe and painted quietly for some minutes, then asked :

" Hoav far haA'e you gone Avith the other one — I mean this time? — that business doAvn at Cam r ey Island needn't count."

" I've told her that I love her — I've told her that I hope to many her some day, if she'll only Avait till I've a home to offer her." "What did she say?" " Oh, she didn't say much, but she let me understand that she AA r ould Avait ! "

" Does she knoAv about your engagement^"

" Yes, I told her about that long ago ; Avhen Aye parted at Canvey."

Bufton knocked the ashes from his pipe on the side of his easel.

" It's an ugly affair, youngster. I'm afraid you haven't acted like a man of honour."

Somerset started and flushed crimson, Avhile the other continued :

" I Avarned you from the first as to Avhat would come of it. You'd no right Avhatever to be on with the neAv love before you Avere off Avith the old. You say I've no sentiment ; and I don't want any, if this is Avhal it leads to."

" But look here, old felloAV," pleaded the young man, " isn't it as clear as daylight that Elhel doesn't care a rap about me? She has only dropped into the engagement to please my mother! "

'" What a fool you must be to think so ! " exclaimed Bufton, almost angrily. " Why the girl is as fond of you as she can possibly be, and she shows it in everything she does. She knoAVS well enough, hoAveA-er, that you're drifting aAvay from her. The moment she entered the studio and began to talk, I saw that she Avas only acting. All that supercilious manner of hers, all the chaff and laughter, are only put on. Her instinct tells her that you're running after someone else."

" I don't believe she'd mind," said Somerset. " She's, not a girl of very deep feeling ! " " Don't make too sure of that," Avas the reply. "It isn't always the dreamy, lackadaisacal, soft-spoken women that feel the most. Your cousin's a high stepper, but she feels a great deal more than you suspect! " " I hope not, Billy ; I hope not, Avith all my soul ! " said Somerset, earnestly. " God knows I don't Avant to do anything mean or caddish or dishonourable, but the long and the short of it is I don't loA r e her — I've never loA r ed her — and since I've met Annie again, I feel more and more that I can never marry my cousin. For Heaven's sake adA'ise me what to do ! "

Bufton shook his head grimly,

" You nrast get out of it the best way you can," he gaid. " Perhaps the best and most honest Avay would be to tell her at once that you want to break it. She already guesses there's something Avrong — trust a clever woman for discovering that — and she may not be as much surprised as you fancy Avhen you make a clean breast of it."

"I'll do it! " cried the young man. "As you say, the sooner the better. I've promired to dine at home to-night."

Then, lifting up the cloth Avhich he had throAvn 0A r er the easel, and sighing deeply, he looked long and sadty at his picture of Andromeda.

(To be continued.)