"Do you know the gentleman well? Is he—good, I mean kind, or hard and cruel? He filled me with a strange fear; but I did not mention it to my father, because he is so fond, so anxious about me."
"Now then, go put on your bonnet, my darlin'; the sun is trying to come out. We'll take a fiacre, and have a good look at the pictures," cried Lambert, breaking in on their discourse.
Elsie was soon ready, and a few hours of simple, pure, but thorough enjoyment ensued. Lambert candidly avowing his indifference to art generally, secured a comfortable seat, and produced a couple of newspapers from his pocket. To these he devoted his attention, telling his daughter he would await her pleasure.
So Glynn was practically alone with Elsie. He found a new experience in her genuine, though uncultured appreciation of the paintings, in the complete unaffected reality of her manner, the honesty of her crude opinions. Then when she found he had seen many galleries, and knew something of art, the interest with which she listened to him was flattering and amusing; not that she was ready to accept his dictum unquestioned, she tried most assertions by the test of her own common sense.
The restful charm of her gentle composure, while it enchanted her companion, conveyed an impression of latent strength which unconsciously piqued him into an irresistible desire to exert an influence, a disturbing influence over her. He was growing conscious that at the first sign of discomposure, the first fluttering hesitation in her look or voice, his firmness, prudence, good resolutions would go by the board. For the present, however, all was safe; he might as well enjoy himself, in another week he would probably be far away, and might never see his queer Californian comrade or his lovely daughter again. Never? Well, he was not so sure about that. Meantime the severest chaperon could not find cause to cavil at any of his words or looks; he was calmly agreeable, and put forth his best powers of conversation, his memories of art, of other lands, of all that could lay hold of his companion's imagination, with intuitive skill.
"Have I kept you too long, dear father?" exclaimed Elsie, when at last she sought her much enduring parent and sank into a seat beside him.
"Well, you've been a trifle longer travelling around than greased lightning. I've finished my two journals, and had a doze, but you have enjoyed the pictures, eh?"
"Very, very much; Mr. Glynn knows a great deal about painting, and he has explained many things that puzzled me. I never enjoyed the salon so much before. Will you come with us again, Mr. Glynn?"
"I shall be very glad," he returned with laudable sobriety. "But I fear I shall have to leave Paris in about ten days," he added.
"Then pray let us come one day next week," said Elsie, quite unmoved by this announcement.