"Oh, how beautiful!" exclaimed Evelyn. "How true! Ah, there is my dear mother's chair! Only represent her in it, and the picture will be perfect. Shall I send you her likeness to copy from?"
"I know her sweet face as well as you do, Evelyn, and I have tried to paint it there, but it did not please me."
Then a sudden thought flashed through his brain, and added secretly, "Maude is right: try it at once and learn the truth."
"I had no one to represent her suitably," he said. "Neither my mother nor Maude could sit for the portrait of the lady of the Moat: you are most like her, Evelyn; will you let me try?"
"Oh yes, do flatter me, if you can, into the fancy that I am like my mother," said Evelyn, with the tears filling her eyes, and taking the seat as he placed it for her in the right position.
So Guy worked, and Evelyn sat patiently, and at last dreamily, a long time, unconscious that Maude was gone.
Suddenly he asked her to come and view his progress, and standing by his side, she saw a fair likeness of herself sitting in her Mother's chair.
"Evelyn," said Guy, "that is how I want it to be: you are the only lady who can take that place; you must be the Mistress of the Moat if I am to be the Master."
And Evelyn's reply saved him and herself from all further fears, and doubts, and misunderstandings.
Then he told her how the dear ones who were gone had encouraged him to ask this grace sometime, if he could hope to win her love, and had left their blessing to hallow the union, if so it should ever be.