The Crowning of Esther

Southern Cross, Volume 8, Issue 18, 4 August 1900, Page 13

The Crowning of Esther

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]

BY MORIOE GERARD, Author of “ Misterton,” “Cast Out,” “The Victoria Cross,” “ Black Gull Bock,” “ Jock o’ th’ Beach,” “ Murray Murgatroyd, Journalist, &c., &c.

This story won the first prize of £IOO, offered by the Newcastle Chronicle, England, for the best serial story. (COPYRIGHT.)

CHAPTER XXTY. Every day Coutance filled more of my thoughts, gradually to the exclusion of everything else. That part of my adorning which consisted of the painter placing the diamond tiara upon my head was elevated into An Event, to which I looked forward half the night, during which I trembled like a child at its first lesson, and upon which I looked back with indescribable sensations for a day and a half until the idea, that it was all to come again, took forcible possession of me, and retrospect was absorbed once more in prospect.

Did he feel me tremble beneath his touch P Did he recognise that his hand had a magnetic influence on my being, soul and body ? The grave courtesy of respect never left him, never deviated a hair’s breadth ; but it seemed to me as the days grew lo weeks, that the process of arrangement took a longer time, that the necessary quiet toying with my hair had become a something to him—as it was everything to me—that he did not like to relinquish too quickly. I looked in the glass at night as I stood in my long dressing gown, the nearest thing 1 had in my wardrobe to the Esther robe of the picture, and tried to see him standing before me with those two stalwart Hereward' arms up to my sheen of golden brown hair.

The first picture, the painting of the woman herself alone, was finished and had departed somewhere. 1 did not care to ask where ; something held me back, neither did he tell me. Apparently he was satisfied, however, for now I was being transferred as Esther to the picture, the great canvas of his life ; and in the banqueting hall the very figure, pose, representation of Ooutance, awaited the coming of Esther—the coming of his bride. I should soon have to ‘ look the part,’ I reminded myself daily. Should I have any difficulty ? It depended on Coufance, and perhaps he knew it; I almost fancied he did, for he put off the day of that final expression, doing everything else first, and retouching other parts of the picture to make the coloring and light more suited to the central figure, with its white sheen, its royal purple, and its girdle of gold. I did not know if he was painting anything, anyone else. I longed to know. But there was no one to ask. I could not have asked for my life, if there had been. I saw no trace of any other picture in the studio ; but there were many rooms in the vast house, I well knew, and perhaps, as at times I thought bitterly, the secret of some woman’s life, who had given herself unsought, as in my soul of souls I knew I had, who had left behind her that .which she could never take again, the first-fruits of a devouring woman’s love, was there. Polly Hedger had not been near me of late. I knew she was very busy. There was a fresh ballet in rehearsal at the Pamphyllion, and Polly had been promoted to take a more leading part, not quite a star but a lesser luminary. Besides, her life as a model went on as actively as ever ; but no longer with Ooutance— I had ascertained that from my landlady ; he had finished with her for the present, Mrs Hedger said, but might want her again when the final touches to Yashti had to be put in. One Sunday evening Polly turned up unexpectedly to tea with her aunt; so I went to church alone. When I

returned she was still there ; and, by Mrs Hedger’s invitation, we all three had sapper together. After that meal, during which I thought our visitor strangely quiet for her, Polly proposed to come to my room for a chat before going home. I had been dreading this suggestion all through church. I felt that Polly would, in all probability, try to probe me ruthlessly; and my feelings were so new and ill-defined, yet so strangely different from what they had ever been before, that I dreaded the ordeal, not knowing how or what I should answer. I remembered w r ell every word of Polly’s description of her own sensations, and her only too accurate prophecy that I was going to feel precisely the same influence. Now I felt that she would want to know the whole truth ; and what was I to answer, so as not to betray that which I dared not own even to myself P Polly had hardly got into the room, and seen the door securely fastened, before she began on the subject. ‘Do you know it is just a month to-day since 1 first spoke to you about being painted ?’

‘ Yes, I did know it well. ‘ I suppose it is about that,’ I replied. ‘ I expect you know it, Miss Wrottisley, just as well as I do.’ I felt nettled at Polly Hedger’s tone as well as the words ; yet I did not want to quarrel with her, especially on this subject, I, therefore, answered quietly : ‘Mr Ooutance is getting on rapidly with the picture. It will soon be finished.’

Polly went off, at a tangent, as women will.

‘ Have you noticed—of course you have, though, how like—how exactly like, Coutance is to the portrait of the King ?’ ‘ Yes ; it struck me directly, and I remarked it to him !’

‘ Did you P I never dared do that. I often w r anted to, but something Stopped me. I never can understand what it is, or why it is so. It is like one of those rabbits at the Zoo when they are put into the boa constrictor’s cage. Ooutance is the boa and I am the rabbit.’

I smiled in spite of myself. Polly was such a very fine fleshy sort of rabbit. Even Coutance would have some difficulty in swallowing her whole. ‘ You don’t look much like a rabbit,’ I said.

‘ Don’t I feel it, though, with Coutance. Do you know, I went to him yesterday. He had not sent for me, but I went.’ Polly evidently regarded this as the very height of daring, by the side of which the storming of Quebec, or the capture of the Malakoff, was so much child’splay.

It was a revelation to me to find how differently Ooutance inspired me to the way in which he did this girl, who had seen so much more of the world than I. ‘ Yes P’ I said.

‘ I pretended I had come to ask him if he could fix a date when he would want me in order that he might finish Yashti, But really I went because I felt I must see him again. Why, it was more than three weeks since I had been to Claphara. Besides, I wanted to find out what he thought of you.’ I felt myself blushing crimson all

over. ‘ Lor’, Miss Wrottisley, how you do blush ! No need to ask what you think. Tour face tells pretty quickly as plain as a pikestaff.’ ‘I blush, at anything,’ I replied, evasively. ‘ Yes, but not like that ! Coutance was not in when I got there, so Brook —he knows me well enough—showed me into the gallery to wait. I don’t know what possessed me, but I determined to look about me a bit. Do you know where I wanted to go ?’ ‘ I haven’t the slightest idea !’ ‘ Oh, no, you wouldn’t ; you are one of the proper sort, who came from the wash, ready starched and ironed to last the rest of your natural life. That isn’t me ! I am curious—l confess that, and I wanted to know more about Coutance; and I also wanted to know what he thought about you. I didn’t expect to get at the latter by looking about, but I did the former. The curious thing about it was that in the end it turned out the other way. I didn’t find anything more about Coutance, but I do know what he thinks of you.’ ‘You couldn’t possibly,’ I exclaimed. ‘ Besides, he doesn’t think anything. ‘What is there for him to think ?’

‘ Wait until you know what I know and have seen what I saw only last evening l ,’ replied Polly oracularly. Here Mrs Hedger came in. I blessed her for the interruption, dying as I was to have my curiosity satisfied. ‘ Well, Polly, you are making a long stay to-night. What will James be thinking' fancying all sorts of things, it seems to me.’ ‘ Gracious, Aunt, what’s'the time ?’ ‘ Why, nearly half-past nine. It will be nearly twelve by the time you get home; and James knows yon don’t often stay here so late, after coming to tea.’ Mrs Hedger’s one weak point was jealousy. She did not care about Polly and me being too confidential. Probably she was afraid this conversation might lead to new engagements of the sort slie did not approve, as a former Sunday talk had launched me into the arrangement to go to Ooutance ‘ All right, Aunt, I’ll run and put my things on. Come with me, Miss Wrottisley, aud help to fix me up quicker.’ I assented readily We both, in fact, wanted to finish the conversation, which had arrived at so critically interesting a point. Mrs Hedger was going to have followed us into the bedroom, but was fortunately called off by Mary Ann, who had discovered no less a disaster than that the flies had got to the cold sirloin. ‘ Shall I tel: you what I was looking for ?’ -whispered Polly, as she tied her bonnet strings under her chin, ‘ I was looking for Ooutance’s bedroom.’ ‘ Oh, how could you ?’ I gasped out.’ ‘ How could I P Why, easily enough. Bless your innocence, if a man’s secret is to be tound out anywhere, always look in his bedroom. T was right too. I found out his, aud yours, too !’ and Polly tripped lightly to the door. I seized her with all my might by the arm. ‘ I will know the rest,’ I said firmly. ‘All right, look out for yourself, and you’ll see,’ and shaking herself free Polly had departed. CHAPTER XXY. I never slept a wink all that night. If Polly had intended bo wake my curiosity up to the highest point of animation she had certainly succeeded. Sometimes I tried to persuade myself it was all a ruse to get v me to betray my own feelings, just as long ago she had candidly confessed what hers were. But her sincerity was too clear for me really to question the truth of what she had said. Bluebeard’s spouse never looked more hungrily at the keys of that fatal apartment than did I, mentally, for the handle of that unknown door in Clapharn Park. I got up early next morning,

looking wan and haggard. It was my day for going to Coutance. I felt strangely nervous and depressed. Perhaps the close Islington atmosphere was beginning*to tell upon me, after having lived so long in the wild, free, intoxicating air of the Derbyshire moorlands. Perhaps it was the double wear and tear of my life, the anxiety how I was to live, and the growing feeling towards the man who was yet nothing to me —he the painter, I the paid model, as I bitterly reminded myself. All these causes were probably sapping my strength, and rendering me less mistress of myself. In a dream, with my breakfast .untouched, 1 found myself on the way to the station, and still mystified and bewildered I arrived at Ennismere. Bruin alone was in the studio when I entered it. He gave me a warm welcome, licking both my hands, and not at all disinclined to pay a similar gompliment to my face. I stooped over Bruin’s grand head, and kissed it. He was very like his master. I fondled the St. Bernard’s great ears, and placed my own eyes close to his tender brown ones. The big dog seemed to understand that I was craving for some affection, some friend, some one near and dear in all that wide cold world of London, for he lifted up his massive paw, stroked my dress, and rubbed his muzzle against my chin. Suddenly, in the midst of all the caress, I had that strange feeling of not being alone in the room ; through ' what channel it comes I know not, perhaps it is electric. I looked up, as Bruin licked my face, taking advantage of my temporary abstraction. Coutance was in the room. Coutance was looking at me and the great dog. I caught his glance before he could change it. It was a look I had never yet seen in man’s face,-wistful, tender—and something more. I was totally inexperienced, but my heart leaped to that look. I recovered, and stood upright, no longer white and wan. 1 blushed until I felt my whole body tingling.

Then without a word on either side I slipped past him, out of the door into the dressing room. I turned the key, fearful lest the maid should come, and read in my face something of the tale it had to tell—against my will—against my will. 1 felt my black clothes heavy upon me, oppressive round the throah. I cast them from me, and lay upon the bed face downwards with my hands upon my breast, striving’ to still the passionate throbbing of my heart, by

main force. If Coutance could have seen me then, what would he have thought ! My secret would have been mine no longer. Oh, howr passionately I loved him, as I lay in the abandonment of my overwhelming feeling on the bed. Then I rose up, dashed some water over my face and throat. It was cold, refreshing to my heated temples and surging bosom. I rang the bell. The maid came, and quietly as if nothing had happened she dressed me as Esther — all except the corona. Could I bear that he should put it on ? Could I bear that he should not put it on F Ob, what contradictory creatures we women are—our weakest as well as our strongest ! These were the questions which ran into one another like some zig-zag pattern, as I crossed the gallery to the studio. Coutance was waiting, in his hand the diamond tiara. The son shone through the Venetian blinds, and a ray of dazzling light rested upon the diamonds. The reflected light from them struck upon my eyes, and shot through my brain. The room all seemed flooded with it. The gold bosses of the paper danced around me. The stature of Coutance assumed gigantic proportions. He was Hereward and I Torfrida. Ho he was Ahasuerus, and I Esthei. Without thinking or knowing what I did, I kneeled down before him, I had always stood to be crowned with the diamond corona before. But now, without thinking, I knelt. As

I did so, my robe fell a little, but I heeded it not. The whole feeling was that of being his —his; and I could think of nothing else. What he was thinking, I cannot tell. He fastened the crown in my hair, then gently stroked the tresses with his hand, as if I had been a distraught child, not quite mistress of itself. ' ‘ This hot London life tries you,’ he said quietly. Then he stretched out his hand and raised me very gently, hut with strong nervous touch, to my feet. I shivered just a little, and with tjhe shiver my strength of mind partially returned. ‘You are feeling weak, Coutance said.' ‘I do not believe you have had anything this morning, and the journey is a long one from Islington in this hot, fierce sunlight.’ I tried to reply, but something held me by the throat. The words were choked before I could give them birth. Coutance touched the bell, and Brook came. ‘ A ‘cup ot hot strong coffee, and the wafers.’ In a few minutes the man returned carrying a salver which his master took from him. I fancied Brook looked at me curiously as though his master were not wont to do all this for those who came to the painter, as I had come. I only noticed the glance then, without understanding it; I analysed it later on. Coutance led me to an easy chair, and banded me the wafers, one by one; they were wine wafers, full of stimulating strength. The hot strong coffee, too, revived me. When I had finished nearly all the wafers and drunk the coffee, I said : ‘ Thank you, yon are very good, and I am very foolish. I did not sleep last night, and this morning did not fancy my breakfast, so I came away without any." lam quite ready now to begin. I am so sorry I have kept you.’ ‘Why did you not sleep last night? Were you worrying about something?’ ‘Do not apeak to me like that,’ I implored him, ‘or I shall breakdown again. It was really nothing, only the heat.’ I could not bear that kind, scrutinising gaze, which I felt read into my very soul. 1 walked to the pedestal, and stepped upon it. As I did so, for a moment I faced the mirror which generally reflected the painter, not me. That first glance revealed that my dress had slightly fallen. Coutance turned to arrange his paints, and I straightened ray robe. Everything that morning seemed against me, and served to make ray confusion greater. ‘ Are you sure you are equal to standing ?’ ‘ Oh, yes, please. I much prefer it,’ I pleaded eagerly. ‘ Very well, then, for a little while. It must not be for long. I watched Coutance painting. His work did not seem quite so easy to him as usual. He stepped back and looked at it every now and then.

Once or twice he shook his head, ‘ Somehow I am not in trim this morning. J think we both want a holiday. What do you say to coming here the same time on VVednesday, and looking over the house with me ? I have a good many artistic and inartistic treasuies scattered about, and the fruits of the chase and many journeys in every known part of the world, and some that are tolerably unknown.’

‘Then when I have tired yon, we will have lunch in the big lonely dining-room downstairs, which I never venture to use when alone. And if you don’t mind, I will ask my friend Storey to meet you. We owe him some amends for keeping him out of the studio all this time. ’ ‘ I am so sorry, ’ I managed to say. ‘ Oh, it does him good, ’ laughed Ooutance. ‘Curiosity is by no means confined to one sex, as masculine libellers say that it is. He is dying of curiosity to see the picture—and Btill more to see yoa. Perhaps Mrs Grundy might not approve of the scheme ; but she does not live in the Sylvia Road, or in fact, in any part of the kingdom of Bohemia, to

which all we artists are supposed to belong. Of course, if Mrvs Hedger thinks she ought to come with you —’ I felt that the vision of Mrs Hedge!, as she had once visited the studio, was present with him as he spoke, with her red face and lavender bonnet well set at the back of her head. ‘ I will trust myself to you, and we will not waste Mrs Hedger’s time,’ I replied, demurely. At this moment my heart seemed to give a twinge. Was it the prospect of that happy morning, on top of all that I had felt the night previously ? The pictures grew unsteady. A mist came once more before my eyes. All that I had felt earlier when Coutance rang for tb,e coffee returned with me, but with tenfold exaggerated force. My head swam. I reeled for a second —and then fell. *** . * * A dream of love, of strong arras around me, of my form being clasped to the breast of one in whom power resides, as a king npon bis throne. I cannot tell how long it lasts, how delicious it is. My limbs are relaxed, but my brain is regaining actiyity. I shall soon be myself again. I wake up and find myself resting like a tired child in Ooutance’s arms with Bruin’s great eyes looking into mine. Were the kisses on my hair I thought I felt only the caress of the great dog’s tongue after all ? CHAPTER XXVI. As soon as I was sufficiently recovered from my faint, Coutance rang for the maid, and she assisted me to change back again into my usual dress. On my return to the studio, Coutance and Bruin had gone out; and Brook was putting the finishing touches to my lunch. ‘ Master said, miss, I was to be sure to see you made a good luncheon,’ and Brook did see to it. His attendance upon me was quite different from what it had been before, something more than personal and interested. He filled my glass with champagne of a similar flavour to that which I bad tasted on a previous morning. I ■was still giddy, but by this time I knew how necessary it was that I should take food, and accordingly did ray best to compel the inner woman to receive the sustenance for which she had not the slightest inclination. After lunch was over I lay down on the sofa for half an hour, and then summoned the ‘ silent Brook.’ ‘ I feel well enough to go home now, Brook : will you please call me a cab ?’ ‘ Master said if you felt at all weak, Ellen was to go with you.’ Ellen was the maid who always waited upon me. ‘ Oh, thank you, I am much better for my lunch, and shall manage quite well. I will not trouble her.’ The champagne had indeed given me a fictitious strength. But what, I am afraid, was mainly in my mind was a foolish sort of pride. I felt I could not take Ellen, with whom I had not the slightest sympathy, to Hagerstone Place. She would have thought it such a dreadfully low neighbourhood. Mrs Hedger, too! Xo, 1 would rather manage without her. So my pride was the first cause of what was to follow. The punishment, in the end surely more than equalled that which brought it about. Brooks saw me into a cab with considerably more zeal and forethought than he had ever displayed before, even furnishing me with a smelling bottle which, but for its gold top with a crest upon it, I should have imagined to be furnished by the discarded Ellen

My little rest after lunch caused me to arrive later than usual at Brixton station, but I was directed, on enquiry, that a Great Northern train would be up in a few minutes, I was still feeling very dazed, and anything but myself. The wine at lunch had done me good in one way, but had served to confuse me in another.

A train pulled up at the platform upon which I was standing. I got

into it, imagining that as it was headed in the direction 1 was going it mast be ray train. 1 was traveling second-class. The was only one other occupant of the carriage, a lady, whom I did not particularly notice, except that she was no longer young. No sooner had the guard waved his signal flag, and the train statted, than I fell into a state of coma, half sleep, half dizziness and weariness. Some half-hour must have elapsed before I pulled myself together sufficiently to gather where I was. I then sat up and looked out of the ■window. We were just coming to a station on a bridge over the river. It was totally unfamiliar to me. I had never been there before, of that I was certain. The lady who had followed me into the compartment was still there, only she had changed her seat to sit opposite to me. In my excitement I got up and exclaimed :

‘I have missed my train and got into the wrong one. I have never been here before. Oh, what shall I do ?’

‘ This train is going to Victoria,’ my vis-a-vis replied, in a quiet tone. ‘We are almost there. Where did you wish to go to ?’ ‘To King’s Cross Metropolitan. I thought I was in a Great Northern train.’ ‘ Ton must have made some great mistake when you got in. They are just coming for the tickets. Let me look at yours. Yes, this is for King’s Cross. You are quite at the other end of London. Probably you Will have to pay again ; for this is quite a different line,’

I felt for my purse. It was not in my pocket. I searched everywhere 1 could think of, but fruitlessly. Either I had left it in the clothes into which and from which I had changed, or on the dressing-table at Ennismere, or some one had taken it out of my pocket. It could not, of course, be the bland, kindly lady opposite. I was penniless and lost, in a part of London I had never been in before. That which would have been child’splay to a Londoner was a very labyrinth to me, who only knew one little . bit of line in all that ’ vast wilderness of confused and confusing metals.

I burst into tears, in the midst of ■which a porter came to the window, £ Tickets, please !’

My companion showed something, which I learned afterwards was a season ticket, admitting her anywhere up and down the line. I looked helplessly at her. 1 Can you help me ?’ I said, appealingly. ‘ I was just going to offer,’ she replied kindly, winning my sympathies at once in my distress. I took her hand, ‘ Oh, how good of you!’ My yis-a-yis whispered something to the ticket collector, afid gave him some money, with which he appeared satisfied, for he went away. What would I not have given now for a sight of the trusty face of my despised admirer, George Forbes, or even of the proffered Ellen !’ The train was drawing up at Victoria.

1 1 think, my dear, you had better come with me. I live at St. John’s Wood. We will take a cab from Victoria. You shall have some tea, which you look sadly in need of at my house ; and I will send you home in my brougham.’ I clasped my hands. 1 Oh, thank you ! How good of you ! How very good of you ! I do want a cup of tea very badly. But what will Mrs Hedger think! It will be ever so late before I get home. Could we send her a telegram, do you think ?’ I blushed as soon as the words were out of my mouth ; for I again remembered that I had no money. ‘ Who -is Mrs Hedger ?’ ‘My landlady. She has been very kind to me.’

* Certainly we can send her a telegram ; yon must tell me what to say.* ‘ We went to the office and despatched the following Having

tea with a friend. Home late. —■ Wrottisley. My new friend called a cab, and gave the man his direction. All the above had taken place in such a htfrried, breathless way that I bad not time to think. I was on the crest of the billow of fate, and felt that I was absolutely helpless.

But now in the cab I had more time and opportunity. It seemed to me I had seen this lady before ; but where ? Had I not travelled with her on a previous occasion, only when we were both on our way to King’s Cross ? Then Forbes’s description of Lord Alfred came across me — 1 tat, and fair, and forty.’ It fitted my companion to a nicety ; but hers was a common type. She had been very kind to me, and I had not the smallest .reason to apprehend that what she had done proceeded from any but the purest and most amiable motives. It was impossible to talk during the journey. The rattle of the cab gave me a farther headache, and rendered farther conversation physically impossible. My new friend likewise seemed preoccupied. The journey seemed to me a long one. At last the cab stopped at a rarge detached house, with a garden round it, £ We are at home at last,’ were the first words which broke the silence which had subsisted between us since we left Victoria. A very grim, tall maidservant opened the door, and we passed in. The hall was narrow and dark. I felt a sense of depression, as one would passing the portals of a prison. A faded oilcloth was on the floor ; opposite the door was a staircase, clothed in a faded old worn carpet. The furniture consisted of one ecclesiastical-looking hall chair, an iron stand for umbrellas, not too bright, and a few hat pegs on a board without hatsMy conductor opened a door on the left. Tea was laid on the table for one, consisting of bread and butter, supplemented by a pot of marmalade, and a tin of sardines about half empty. The grim maid soon produced a second cup, saucer, and plate, and the teai-pot. Altogether it struck me that the surroundings and the equipage were more suited to No. 7 Haggerstone Place, than to a lady of the pretensions of my benevolent conductress, who talked of ordering her brougham in an hour’s time, to take me home. Directly we were seated, and I had drunk my first cap of tea, I felt refreshed and able to talk. ‘ Would you tell me your name ? My name is Caroline Caroline Wrottisley, Somehow I cannot help fancying I have seen yon somewhere quite recently before to-day.’ ‘ Pass your cup for some more tea, my dear. My name is Butterfield. My husband was % clergyman.’ Here Mrs Butterfield brought o«t a handkerchief, which had not paid a visit to the laundry as recently as might have been wished. ‘ I am a good deal about, and you may of coarse have seen me ; I do not recollect ever meeting with you before Eversince my poor husband’s death—only five years ago, my dear, and so sadden —I have striven to follow in his lamented footsteps and do a little good in the sad sorrowful world in which we live. I work for the Charity Organisation Society, and go all over London, making enquiries for them. To-day X had been to Brixton—the Loughborough Road, perhaps you know it—on an errand of mercy, and I met you in the train all forlorn and lost, and was enabled, guided I may say, to do another.’ ‘ How nice it must be, Mrs Butterfield, to have the means to go abont and do so much good!’ I spoke sincerely, and I felt a guilty consciousness that I ought to admire and like this woman better than I did. I was sure the touch of sympathy mast be wanting in myself, and that I was so much the worse for the lack of it. ‘ Yes, I pinch myeelf of many

[things to be able to do it. You see the carpets and other things have not ’ been renewed since poor Charlie was I taken away.’ And Mrs Butterfield relapsed into her mourning handkerchief again. In an hour my carriage was announced. It looked very like a cab, with a cabman in livery ; but whatever it was, I was heartily glad to see it. ‘ You will come again, my dear ?’ said my hostess, as she received ray warm thanks. ‘ I shall be very pleased to.’ ‘ Come this day week ; and have a little dinner here. I will meet you at Victoria, at 3.30, and tell Mrs Hedger not to expect you until nine o’clock.’ I could not but assent, she had been so kind ; and I felt -it was so very ungrateful of me not to like her better. On the way home, I suddenly remembered the smelling bottle Brook had brought me; I had never used it. I put ray haud in my pocket and felt the lost purse. It seemed very strange. Had it got into the folds of the lining p I could not any. The purse was there, but smelling bottle, with the gold top and the crest, was nowhere to be found. (To be Continued.)