A servant brought in a small parcel that looked like a case of jewelry done up in paper, and laid it before the countess.
She smiled, with a deprecating look, as she took it up and opened it and passed it around to her friends for inspection. It was a miniature of the countess herself, painted on ivory. It was a faithful likeness, apparently very recently taken; for, on looking at it, you seemed to see the beautiful countess herself on a diminished scale, or through an inverted telescope.
"It has been making a visit," smiled the countess. "A poor young artist in Edinboro' is getting up a 'Book of Beauty' on his own account. He came here in person to beg the loan of one of my portraits to engrave from. I gave him this, because it was the last I had taken. I gave it to him because a refusal from me would have wounded his feelings and discouraged his enterprise. Otherwise, I assure you, I should not have let him have it for any such purpose as he designed. For the idea of putting my portrait in a 'Book of Beauty' is a rich absurdity."
"Pardon me; I do not see the absurdity at all," said Ishmael earnestly, as in his turn he received the miniature and gazed with admiration on its beautiful features.
"Young gentleman, I am forty-five," said the countess.
Ishmael gave a genuine start of surprise. He knew of course that she must have been of that age, but he had forgotten the flight of time, and the announcement startled him. He soon recovered himself, however, and answered with his honest smile:
"Well, my lady, if you are still beautiful at forty-five, you cannot help it, and you cannot prevent artistic eyes from seeing it. I, as one of your friends, am glad and grateful for it. And I hope you will remain as beautiful in form as in spirit even to the age of seventy-five, or as long after that as you may live in this world."
"Thank you, Mr. Worth. I really do value praise from you, because I know that it is sincere on your part, if not merited on mine," said Lady Hurstmonceux.
Ishmael bowed low and in silence. Then he resumed his contemplation of the picture. And presently he looked up and said:
"Lady Hurstmonceux, I am going to ask you a favor. Will you lend me this picture for a week?"