Richard went toward him and the two men met as Ted came forward from his easel. They put their hands on each other’s shoulders, and Miss Carrington felt her eyes grow moist. This was a love that passed the love of women, and it made itself felt as these two friends stood silent for an instant, giving and taking devotion.
“All right, old Ted, stay with me,” was all that Richard said.
“I’ll tell Anne Dallas he is not desolate, though she must know through her cousin,” thought Miss Carrington, profoundly thankful that Richard had this friend.
Little Anne had looked on this scene and listened to what had been said with intense though puzzled interest. It was clear to her that she was to go with Miss Carrington in a carriage, to see Anne, but nothing else was clear to her.
“Do I stop sitting, Mr. Wilberforce?” she asked.
“For to-day. There needs but few more sittings, little Anne. The picture will be done in four or five more, I’m sure. Then it will be exhibited in New York, and people will wonder who is Edwin Wilberforce’s dark little Mystic! And only a few of us will be let into the secret that it is the smallest Anne!” Ted offered his hand to little Anne to help her down from the chair.
She seized it and kissed it.
“Doesn’t God send me the dearest people!” she sighed.
Miss Carrington bore the child off with her, Ted seeing them to the carriage. He returned to Richard and to the putting away of his easel, brushes, and colours, and stood the wet canvas carefully against the wall on one of the bookcases.
Neither man was inclined to talk. This was definitely the end of Richard’s short dream of joy. But he was not alone; and both men were gratefully aware of the value of their friendship now.