"What a host of admirers you have already in your train, Madge," whispered Mrs. Arnold to her sister as she came opposite the portrait of Lord Melrose and stood admiring the exquisite touch and execution of the artist.
The latter had been engaged in conversation with a group of ladies when his eyes fell upon Marguerite Verne. The earnest gaze made the girl look toward him, and as she did so that look made a deep impression upon the youth.
"I would give almost all I possess to paint that face," thought he, gazing intently at the spirituelle type of beauty that is so seldom seen.
"Allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Verne," said Mrs., Arnold, who felt much flattered at the admiration paid Marguerite.
"I think that we must persuade her to sit for a portrait, Mr. Manning," said Mrs. Arnold, trying to attract her mother's attention from the niche in which she sat carelessly chatting with some acquaintances they had made on their ocean trip.
Soon Mrs. Verne found them, and was in ecstacies over her daughter's proposal.
"It would be such a nice way to show Madge to advantage. I am delighted with the thought," said Mrs. Arnold to her mother, as she toyed with her jewelled fan and gazed carelessly around to see if Lord Melrose were yet in the studio.
"How provoking. It is just always so! It will afford such satisfaction to my sweet-tempered husband."
"My dear Mrs. Arnold; it does one good to meet you after trying to live a few days at Portsmouth," cried a showy looking military man, perhaps forty years of age, perhaps younger, with a heavy reddish moustache and dark auburn hair.
"I cannot really say whether you are complimentary or not, colonel," said Mrs. Arnold, smiling with all the angelic sweetness at her command, "since I have never had the pleasure of visiting that renowned place."