Markham turned his eyes upon him with a startled expression, and a smile that was not a smile came upon his face.
'Faint? yes,' he said. 'This room after the air. I'll be all right. Don't make a scene, for God's sake.'
'There is no need,' said Harwood. 'Sit down here, and I'll get you a glass of brandy.'
'Not here,' said Markham, giving the least little side glance towards the picture. 'Not here, but at the open window.'
Harwood helped him over to the open window, and he fell into a seat beside it and gazed out at the lawn-tennis players, quite regardless of Lottie Vincent standing beside him and enquiring how he felt.
In a few minutes Harwood returned with some brandy in a glass.
'Thanks, my dear fellow,' said the other, drinking it off eagerly. 'I feel better now—all right, in fact.'
'This, of course, you perceive,' came the voice of Mr. Glaston from the group who were engrossed over the wonders of the final picture,—'This is an exquisite example of a powerful mind endeavouring to subdue the agony of memory. Observe the symbolism of the grapes and vine leaves.'
In the warm sunset light outside the band played on, and Miss Vincent flitted from group to group with the news that this Mr. Markham had added to the romance which was already associated with his name, by fainting in the room with the pictures. She was considerably surprised and mortified to see him walking with Miss Gerald to the colonel's carriage in half an hour afterwards.
'I assure you,' she said to some one who was laughing at her,—'I assure you I saw him fall against the window at the side of one of the pictures. If he was not in earnest, he will make our theatricals a great success, for he must be a splendid actor.'