“How much my poor husband will be disappointed!” Mrs. Elliott could not help exclaiming. “He must now abandon the hope of presenting his picture at the exhibition.”
“What!” said her visitor, with interest, “is your husband an artist?”
In reply, Mrs. Elliott led him to a corner of the room, and withdrew the screen that concealed the painting.
He gazed upon it with deep admiration for some minutes, and then said, with enthusiasm,—
“Ah! this is indeed beautiful!”
“It is nearly completed,” said the artist’s wife; “but that will be of no service to us now.” And she let fall the screen, and sighed heavily.
A sudden idea struck the visitor.
“Will you trust the painting to me for a few days?” he asked. “You shall not regret it.”
Mrs. Elliott, convinced that her husband would not recover in time to finish it, assented without difficulty. She never thought of distrusting one who had been of such essential service.