“I fear that I cannot promise you that; I found two other prints of the same person, but they are worse even than this,” said Lady Susan. “You must do your best with the material at your disposal.”
“Your ladyship may depend on my doing my best,” replied Miss Read. “When does his lordship's birthday take place?”
Her ladyship was somewhat taken aback by the sudden question. It took her some time to recollect that her father's birthday was to be within a month. She felt that she could not live for longer than another month without a portrait of the man whom she loved.
While she was going home in her chair she could not but feel that she had hitherto been an undutiful daughter, never having taken any interest in her father's birthday, and being quite unacquainted with its date. She hoped fervently that Miss Read would not put herself to the trouble to find out exactly on what day of what month it took place. The result of such an investigation might be a little awkward.
It so happened that Miss Read took no trouble in this direction. All her attention was turned upon the task of making a presentable miniature out of the indifferent material with which she had been supplied for this purpose. She began wondering if it might not be possible to get O'Brien to sit to her half a dozen times in order to give her a chance of doing credit to herself and to the gentleman's fine features.
She was still pondering over this question when her attendant entered with a card, saying that a gentleman had come to wait on her.
She read the name on the card, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, for the name was that of the man of whom she was thinking—Mr. O'Brien, of Drury Lane Theatre.
She had wholly failed to recover herself before he entered the studio, and advanced to her, making his most respectful bow. He politely ignored her flutter-ings—he was used to see her sex overwhelmed when he appeared.
“Madam, I beg that you will pardon this intrusion,” he said. “I have taken the liberty of waiting upon you, knowing of your great capacity as an artist.”
“Oh, sir!” cried the fluttered little lady, making her courtesy.