“Yes, weren’t we lucky?” said Mrs. Wyndwood. “It’s an old family residence. The owner kept it untenanted for thirty years, and has never consented to let it before.”
The ladies took off their things while the men brushed themselves in the hall, where, divided by a heavily carved barometer, a pair of faded oil-paintings hung—a gentleman in a wig and a lady in a coif. These reminded Miss Regan that Matthew must see how splendidly Herbert’s portrait of Mrs. Wyndwood had turned out after all. “The rogue!” she cried. “As soon as he thought the sittings were to cease, the picture picked up wonderfully! And now he’s dilly-dallying with it again!”
So they wandered through the large rambling house with its old-fashioned belongings till they reached the room which Herbert had been allowed to use as a studio. Matthew saw with joy that Herbert had let the glorious face and figure be as he himself had painted them in that spurt of inspiration, and had confined his own attention to the minutiæ of the dress, which was nearly finished. Olive held a lamp to it, awaiting his praises. He had a moment of embarrassment.
“She is very beautiful,” he said, ambiguously, but rapturously. Then, turning to Herbert, he added, heartily, “If your comedy is only as good, old fellow—”
“It will be,” said Mrs. Wyndwood, enthusiastically. “Who should write comedy if not a man like Mr. Strang—I mean Mr. Herbert—a man who has seen the manners of men and cities? I should think he could do it even better than he can paint.”
“But he has one disadvantage,” said Olive, gloomily. “He is witty.”
Herbert stood bowing with his hand on his breast in mock acknowledgment. His boyish face looked flushed and handsome in the lamplight. Matthew had a spasm of despair—a momentary sense of being an outsider.
“Don’t practise your footlights bow here,” said Olive. “No one has called ‘author!’ ”
“ ‘Many are called, but few chosen,’ ” quoted Herbert.
“I wonder how I should come out under your brush?” said Eleanor, turning to Matthew. His black fit vanished; he was taken back again into the charmed circle. But the question remained awkward.