Helen lifted her sad eyes to his.
"I thank you, monsieur," she gratefully returned. "You are—you always have been—most kind and patient." Then, glancing searchingly around the room, the walls of which were covered with beautiful paintings, she inquired: "Are there any of Mr. Hungerford's pictures here?"
"Ah! Madame would like to see some of the work monsieur has been doing of late?" said the artist alertly, and glad to change the subject, for he saw that his proffered kindness had well-nigh robbed her of her composure. "Come this way, if you please, and I will show you," he added, turning to leave the room.
He led her through a passage to a small room in the rear of the one they had just left; and, some one coming to speak to him just then, excusing himself, he left her there to look about at her leisure.
This was evidently John's private workroom; but it was in a very dusty and untidy condition, and Helen was appalled to see the many unfinished subjects which were standing against the walls, in the windows, and even upon chairs. Some were only just begun; others were well under way, and it would have required but little time and effort to have completed them and made them salable.
She moved slowly about the place, pausing here and there to study various things that appealed to her, and at the same time recognizing the unmistakable talent that was apparent in almost every stroke of the brush.
At length she came to a small easel that had been pushed close into a corner. There was a canvas resting on it, with its face turned to the wall, and curiosity prompted her to reverse it to ascertain the subject, when a cry of surprise broke from her lips as she found herself gazing upon the unfinished portrait of a most beautiful woman.
John had never seemed to care to do portraits—they were uninteresting, he had always said—and she had never known of his attempting one before; hence her astonishment.
The figure had been painted full length. It was slight, but perfect in its proportions; the pose exceedingly graceful and natural, the features delicate, the coloring exquisite. The eyes were a deep blue, arch and coquettish in expression; the hair a glossy, waving brown, a few bewitching locks falling softly on the white forehead, beneath a great picture hat. The costume was an evening gown of black spangled net, made décoletté, and with only an elaborate band of jet over the shoulders, the bare neck and beautifully molded arms making an effective contrast against the glittering, coal-black dress.
The girl was standing by a small oval table, one hand resting lightly upon it, the other hanging by her side, and loosely holding a pair of long silken gloves.