It seemed to Fenwick that her tone had grown rather hurried and reserved, as though she regretted the impulse which had made her show him the drawing. He praised it as intelligently as he could; but his mind was guessing all the time at the relation which lay behind the drawing. According to Cuningham's information, it was now three years since a separation had been arranged between Madame de Pastourelles and her husband, Comte Albert de Pastourelles, owing to the Comte's outrageous misconduct. Lord Findon had no doubt taken her abroad after the catastrophe. And, besides her father, Welby had also been near, apparently—watching over her?
He returned to his work upon the hands, silent, but full of speculation. The evident bond between these two people had excited his imagination and piqued his curiosity from the first moment of his acquaintance with them. They were both of a rare and fine quality; and the signs of an affection between them, equally rare and fine, had not been lost on those subtler perceptions in Fenwick which belonged perhaps to his heritage as an artist. If he gave the matter an innocent interpretation, and did not merely say to himself, 'She has lost a husband and found a lover,' it was because the woman herself had awakened in him fresh sources of judgement. His thoughts simply did not dare besmirch her.
* * * * *
The clock struck five; and thereupon a sound of voices on the stairs outside.
'Papa!' said Madame de Pastourelles, jumping up—in very evident relief—her teeth chattering.
The door opened and Lord Findon put in a reconnoitring head.
'May I—or we—come in?'
And behind him, on the landing, Fenwick with a start perceived the smiling face of Arthur Welby.
'I've come to carry off my daughter,' said Findon, with a friendly nod to the artist. 'But don't let us in if you don't want to.'
'Turn me out, please, at once, if I'm in the way,' said Welby. 'Lord
Findon made me come up.'