"Upon my soul!" he said to himself. "What can Grace Dearborn see in that beggar? I'll soon separate them!"
He stepped up with his usual assurance, and, bowing, said:
"May I venture to relieve this gentleman of his pleasant duty, and substitute myself in his place?"
"Not at present, Major Ashton," said Grace, coldly; "unless Mr. Vernon is weary of his charge."
"Far from it," said the young artist.
"Presuming puppy!" muttered Major Ashton, as the two passed on.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ARTIST'S RECREATION.
Whether Frederic Vernon read in Major Ashton's face the disgust he felt at the compliment Grace bestowed upon him in singling him out as her companion, I am not sure. It is clear, however, that the young artist cared little for it. He was enjoying the companionship of the only young lady who had ever had power to stir his heart, and for the moment did not allow himself to think of the distance between them.