He, the strong man, the
millowner and millionaire, was as weak as the weakest woman in all things
concerning the child of his mature age.
"Yes," he said, with some affectation of indifference; "Lovel would make a
nice picture enough. We'll have him painted if you like, Clary, some day.
Send for him, my dear."
She had her hand upon the bell directly.
"Yes," she cried, "he would make the sweetest picture in the world, and
Austin shall paint him."
The familiar mention of the name Austin, _tout court_, scared Mr. Granger
almost as much as a cannon fired close at his elbow might have done. He
stared at his wife with grave displeasure.
"_Mr_. Austin can paint him some day, if you wish it, Clarissa," he said.
Mrs. Granger blushed crimson; again she remembered that this brother she
loved so dearly was only a strange painter of portraits, whom it behoved
her to treat with only the most formal courtesy. She hated the deception;
and having a strong faith in her husband's generosity, was sorely tempted
to put an end to this acted lie on the spot, and to tell him who his guest
was; but fear of her brother's anger stopped her. She had no right to
betray him; she must wait his permission to tell the secret.
"Even Sophia seems to like him," she thought; "and I don't think Daniel
could help being pleased with him, in spite of anything papa may have said
to his prejudice."
The baby was brought, and, being in a benignant humour, was graciously
pleased to look his brightest and prettiest, and in nurse's phraseology, to
"take to" his unknown uncle.
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