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Yes, I could hear Rayel's voice shouting in a loud and angry tone, but, try as I would, I could not utter a sound. As I listened, the two men clutched me with strong hands and dragged me through an open door, which quickly closed behind them. It was no sooner shut than Rayel threw himself against it with terrific force. I could hear the door groan and shake under the strain.
But the likeness was not exact, the face was idealized as I had seen it in my dream the night before. I raised my eyes to Rayel's face. He was looking at me with an expression of pain and embarrassment. My uncle recovered the power of speech rapidly. Before I had been a week in his house he was able to talk with comparative ease.
For an instant, only, he stood like some fierce animal at bay, then turned and walked hurriedly down the deck. The situation was made all the more impressive by the interval of silence that followed Rayel's words. "Forgive me," said Mr. Murmurtot, taking my hand, "if this meeting was unpleasant. It was necessary." Then he bowed politely and walked away.
The greater part of it everything, indeed, but the house and grounds was in cash, represented by certificates of deposit accompanying the will, and bonds of the United States. There was a considerable bequest for me, whom he had named as executor of the will, which, however, I determined never to apply to my own use, except in case of Rayel's death.
Our beloved "Woman" that was the title we had given Rayel's strangely derived conception was among the paintings included in the sale to Mr. Paddington. Rayel thought he could reproduce it, and for days after it was gone he made ineffectual efforts to paint another woman after the ideal of our hearts. But, alas! try as he would, that face never came back to his canvas.
"I seem to see millions of forms around me. I seem to hear them, but I cannot see you nor hear you." As if exhausted by the effort, his head fell back upon Rayel's shoulder, and he lay for a time, his eyes closed, struggling for breath. The dying man's faculties would no longer obey the whip of his mighty will. Indeed, they had done him their final service, for in a few moments he was dead.
Rayel's wonderful skill with the brush had evidently been the subject of some discussion among Mr. Paddington's guests. It was referred to frequently, and somewhat to the embarrassment of my cousin, in the exchange of greetings that followed our introduction. Greatly to the relief of my fears Rayel seemed quite at ease.
The paper described Rayel's personal charms at much length, and claimed the credit of having discovered a genius who, although still a youth, had done work worthy of an acknowledged master. We had deep respect for the influence of that newspaper before another week ended.
When summer came at last, he grew stronger, and was able to walk, supported by Rayel, to his chair in the open courtyard among the flowers. The lion, which had been confined in its cage most of the time since my uncle had grown so feeble as to need Rayel's constant attention sickened and died in the warm days of early June.
I rented comfortable apartments on Fifth Avenue, near Madison Square. As soon as Rayel had recovered from the fatigue and excitement of the trip, we set about unpacking his pictures and getting them framed. Our lightest room was reserved for a studio, and the paintings were hung under Rayel's direction.
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