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There was a drowsy peacefulness in the air; behind them, among the beeches, were many stealthy wood-sounds; and, at long intervals, a sleepy, peevish twittering went about the nested trees. In Colonel Musgrave's face, the primal peace was mirrored. "May I ask," said he at length, "what you propose doing?" Mr. Charteris answered promptly.
My opinion of pictures is worth nothing, and, to speak truthfully, I saw little remarkable in Musgrave's portrait of Madame Vatrotski. The mystery had caused a large number of people to linger round the portrait, and so far as I could gather the general impression was that it did not do her justice. Some even called it a caricature.
Did you think I was by any chance referring to the man in the moon and the Queen of Sheba?" If ever amazement showed in a man's eyes, it shone now in Rudolph Musgrave's. After a little, the pupils widened in a sort of terror. So this was what Clarice Pendomer had been hinting at. "Nonsense!" he cried. "Why why, it is utter, preposterous, Bedlamite nonsense!"
But it was equally undeniable that he had made his money through a series of commercial speculations distinguished both by shiftiness and daring, and that the man himself had been until the War a wholly negligible "poor white" person, an overseer, indeed, for "Wild Will" Musgrave, Colonel Musgrave's father, who was of course the same Lieutenant-Colonel William Sebastian Musgrave, C.S.A., that met his death at Gettysburg.
But I must stop: we have got no farther than the disaster of Miss Musgrave's jumping off the steps. I am going on, but very slowly, and not to my satisfaction with my work. To MRS. SNEYD EDGEWORTH. EDGEWORTHSTOWN, March 27. I agree with you in thinking the MS. de Sainte-Helene a magnificent performance.
Harry Musgrave, so much the better for him; if she were a weak, impulsive girl, he would advise delay and probation, but she was of full age and had a good sensible head of her own; she knew Mr. Harry Musgrave's circumstances, tastes, prejudices, and habits what she would gain in marrying him, and what she would resign. What more was there to say? Mr.
Musgrave stared after him, for a while. The lust of victory died; the tumult and passion and fervor were gone from Musgrave's soul. He could very easily imagine the things Jack Charteris would say to Anne concerning him; and the colonel knew that she would believe them all.
They were both a little out of their depth, I thought, and after a few moments I did not pay much attention to them. My thoughts had gone back to Musgrave's picture and to Forbes's bust of Madame Vatrotski. Zena had said that the real woman was probably somewhere between the two, and as I looked at the figure for which the dancer had been the model I felt she was right.
"Possibly some one or something she is afraid of has caused her to go into hiding," said Quarles. "Afraid! I doubt if she had any fear of devil or man. Have you seen Musgrave's portrait of her?" The professor nodded, and I thought it was curious that the Academy picture should be referred to so persistently. "She was like that," said Forbes. "Musgrave's is a wonderful piece of work."
"Then," said Dolly, smiling indulgently, "you must have it a little oftener. Home, Roberts, please." I am not yet allowed at Mrs. Hilary Musgrave's. "To hear you talk," remarked Mrs.
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