"To-morrow, then," he said,—"may I come to-morrow, and at what hour?"
Claire hesitated for a moment, and then named an hour late in the afternoon. "I shall not be at leisure before then," she said.
She did not add what was in her thoughts—that at this hour she might see him alone, since Mrs. Kerr and Marion generally went out at that time to drive. It was, she knew, contrary to foreign custom for her to receive him in such a manner; but, strong in the integrity of her own purpose, she felt that foreign customs concerned her very little.
The next day, therefore, when Earle arrived, he was informed that the ladies were out, except Miss Alford, who was in her studio, and would receive him there. A little surprised but very much pleased by this, he followed the servant to the room which Claire used as a studio when she was not studying in the galleries or in the studio of the artist who was her master.
It was a small apartment, altogether devoted to work, and without any of the decorations which make many studios show-rooms for bric-a-brac rather than places for labor. Here the easel was the chief article of furniture, and there was little else beside tables for paints and a few chairs. All was scrupulously clean, fresh and airy, however; and, with Claire's graceful figure in the midst, it seemed to Earle, as he entered, a very shrine of art—art in the noble simplicity which suits it best.
Claire, with her palette on her hand, was standing before the easel. She greeted him with a smile, and bade him come where he could command a good view of the painting. "Now be quite candid," she said; "for you know I do not care for compliments."
"And I hope you know that I never pay them—to you," he answered, as he obeyed her and stepped in front of the canvas.
It was a charming picture, a typical Campagna scene—a ruined mediæval fortress, in the lower story of which peasants had made their home, and round the door of which children were playing; a group of cattle drinking at a flag-grown pool; and, stretching far and wide, the solemn beauty of the great plain. The details were treated with great artistic skill, and the sentiment of the picture expressed admirably the wild, poetic desolation of this earth, "fatiguée de gloire, qui semble dédaigner de produire."
"You have succeeded wonderfully," said Earle, after a pause of some length. "How can you doubt it? Honestly, I did not expect to see anything half so beautiful. How admirably you have expressed the spirit of the Campagna!"
"Do you really think so?" asked Claire, coloring with pleasure. "Or, rather, I know that you would not say so if you did not think so, and therefore I am delighted to hear it. I wanted so much to express that spirit. It is what chiefly impresses me whenever I see the Campagna, and it is so impossible to put it in words."