For many days Mr. Willis lay at death's door; but at length he rallied, and one never-to-be-forgotten morning his nurses declared that he was better; the doctor confirmed their hopeful report, and Angel and Gerald's joy and relief was too great for words. That was a red letter-day for both children and Uncle Edward too.
"Now the crisis has passed, he will soon begin to gain strength," Mrs. Steer said cheerfully, when she heard the good news, "but we must not expect him to get well all at once after such a serious illness. It will be months before he'll be himself again."
"Then I am afraid he won't finish his picture in time for the Royal Academy this year!" Angel exclaimed, the brightness of her face becoming slightly overclouded at the thought.
"Good gracious, no, child, I should think not, indeed!"
"He will be terribly disappointed," the little girl said, "terribly! Never mind," she added smiling happily, "God has spared his life, and nothing else matters much."
"No, indeed!" Gerald agreed. "I wouldn't think about the picture!"
But Angel could not help thinking about the picture, for she realized more fully than did Gerald how all her father's hopes of success had been centred on this piece of work; after her brother had gone to school she crept softly upstairs, and unlocked the studio door.
The room was dusty, for it had not been touched during its owner's illness, so she fetched a duster and dusted it thoroughly, taking care to keep every thing in place, that her father should find nothing altered. Then she turned to an easel pushed back into one corner of the room, and lifted the cloth which hid the unfinished picture. She had often watched the artist at work upon it; and, perhaps, from the fact of seeing it gradually grow beneath his touch, had never looked at it with the same comprehending eyes as she did now. It seemed to her very beautiful, the work of a genius, as she told herself proudly; and her heart swelled with pain at the thought of the keen disappointment it would be to her father not to be able to finish it in time for exhibition that spring.
The picture was to be called "Righteousness and peace," and the subject was an ambitious one representing two beautiful female forms clad in loose flowering garments in the act of kissing each other. As Angel stood looking at it, she heard some one, enter the room, and turning quickly saw Mr. Bailey. He came to her side, and fixed his eyes scrutinously upon the picture.
"It still requires many finishing touches, I perceive," he said at length. "I fancy he cannot mean to do much more to the women's faces, to my mind they tell all he means them to express—'Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other.' He told me he had been at work on the drapery—ah, yes, I see! I wonder what your father's artist friends think of his picture. It seems to me good, very good; but, then, I fear my opinion does not go for much. I am sorry to think it will not be exhibited this year. The doctor says your father must not dream of work for many weeks to come, and advises he should live in a milder climate."