“Perhaps not.”
“Besides, I look upon that property—if it does ever come to me—as a kind of windfall; it was one of those pieces of fortune one could n't have expected, you know.” Then, turning towards the youth, as if to apologize for a discussion in which he could take no part, he said, “We were talking of a property which, by the eccentricity of its owner, may one day become mine.”
“And which doubtless some other had calculated on inheriting,” said the youth.
“Well, that may be very true; I never thought about that,—eh, Baynton?”
“Why should you?” was the short response.
“Gain and loss, loss and gain,” muttered the youth, moodily, “are the laws of life.”
“I say, Baynton, what a jolly moonlight there is out there in the garden! Would n't it be a capital time this to see your model, eh?”
“If you are disposed to take the trouble,” said the youth, rising, and blushing modestly; and the others stood up at the same moment.
Nothing passed between them as they followed the young sculptor through many an intricate by-way and narrow lane, and at last reached the little stream on whose bank stood his studio.
“What have we here!” exclaimed Baynton as he saw it; “is this a little temple?”