"Then I may infer," said Murdock, smiling, "that you would not break your heart if——"
He seemed to hesitate in the choice of his words.
"If he should conclude to go abroad on a long journey without subjecting you to his impending proposal."
"On the contrary, father," admitted Agnes, "I should be everlastingly grateful to you if such a consummation could be brought about without unnecessary rudeness or cruelty towards Mr. Chatham."
"Very well, Agnes, that is all I wanted to see you about."
Agnes looked curiously at her father, as if to read the purpose hidden in the depths of his inscrutable eyes. She saw nothing but a polite dismissal in his calm face; and the interview between father and daughter ended, as it had begun, with formal courtesy on both sides.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PORTRAIT.
Sprague was seated before his easel arranging his palette for the morning's work. The unfinished portrait of Agnes Murdock looked down upon him with eyes of living beauty. Occasionally the artist would bestow a deft touch upon the glowing canvas and would retire to a distance to note with a critical eye the new effect. Then he would consult his watch in nervous impatience; and, going to the window, he would glance anxiously up and down the street. Once or twice the rumble of wheels caused him to look up in glad expectancy, which gradually gave way to gloomy discontent as the noise died away in the distance.