That interview in the Rue du Chevalier Bayard
had been so sadly brief, and her heart too full for many words.
Austin Lovel came in presently, looking his handsomest, in his careful
evening-dress, with a brilliant light in his eyes, and that appearance of
false brightness which is apt to distinguish the man who is burning the
candle of life at both ends. Only by just the faintest elevation of his
eyebrows did he betray his surprise as he looked at his sister; and his
air, on being presented to her a few moments afterwards, was perfect in its
serene unconsciousness.
Mr. Granger talked to him of his picture pleasantly enough, but very much
as he would have talked to his architect, or to one of his clerks in the
great Bradford establishment. There was a marked difference between
the tone of the rich English trader and the German ambassador, when he
expressed himself on the subject of Mr. Austin's talent; but then the
Englishman intended to give the painter a commission, and the German did
not.
"I should like you to paint my wife--and--and--my daughter," said Mr.
Granger, throwing in Sophia as an after-thought. It would be only civil to
have his daughter's portrait painted, he thought.
Mr. Austin bowed. "I shall be most happy," he said. Clarissa's eyes
sparkled with delight. Sophia Granger saw the pleased look, and thought,
"O, the vanity of these children of perdition!" But she did not offer any
objection to the painting of her own likeness.
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