"I've told you I fancy it's quite as likely to vex Mr. Meridith as to please him; but of course I may be mistaken. Who can tell what will melt a stern father's stony heart? You know him much better than I do, anyway."
"Well, it's awfully good of you, old chap, not to mind. I hope it won't interfere with your work too much. You know, I rather feel I ought to clear out at once, now you've come back."
"Not a bit of it. Stop at least until Miss Meridith's portrait is done. You couldn't ask her to go to any strange studio, you know. It's quite different here, where her father knows the whole lot of us."
So much for Frank's enterprise.
Jack Hardy also was working with increased ardour, with renewed interest and hope.
On the afternoon of the very day of his return from Venice, Geoff had called at the Albany to make inquiries regarding Lord Winborough's whereabouts. However far afield his cousin might happen to be, he almost invariably returned to England in the late summer and paid frequent visits to London.
Geoff was anxious to persuade Lord Winborough now definitely to arrange to fulfil his promise of sitting to Jack Hardy. It had not taken Geoff long to discover that his friend was unhappy and dispirited. The allegorical picture had been so far a miserable failure, and had left Jack in exactly the frame of mind to follow the dictates of worldly wisdom. He knew in his heart that portraiture, whether in oils or marble, was his forte, and the news that Lord Winborough was expected at his chambers in the course of a few days had served to brace him up anew. He would follow up the advantages in obtaining paying "sitters" that would probably result from his exhibiting a successful bust of the earl, and the long-dreamed-of "Belle Dame" picture should really be the last of its type, as far as he was concerned. Having definitely made up his mind to this, he was rewarded by a renewal of enthusiasm and belief in the future.
Saturday was devoted to work, but Geoff and Evarne spent the whole of Sunday up the river. To both it was a time of unmitigated delight. Sunshine, fair placid scenery, youth, health and love—what could have been added to render the hours more idyllic, golden, divine? If Evarne knew much sorrow, she had, as if in recompense, an intimate acquaintance with a far deeper, a more intense happiness than ever falls within the lot of many. She and Geoff agreed that next Sunday should be passed in the same manner. Quite definitely this was decided—"unless it rained!" That was the only possible obstacle that presented itself. Ah well! the mere decision was pleasant, and served to soften the hour of parting.