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Updated: June 17, 2025
Often and often, during her wanderings, had her thoughts dwelt anxiously on his discontents and calamities; she had made her sister or her father write to him when she could not write herself though Lord Findon indeed had been for long much out of patience with him; and during the last few months she herself had written every week.
These months of work on the portrait this constant assumption on the part of the Findon circle that both the portrait and the 'Genius Loci' were to become Findon possessions and yet no sum named no clear agreement even nothing, as it seemed to Fenwick's suspicious temper, in either case, that really bound Lord Findon.
Lord Findon was indeed curious about everything; interested in everything; and a dabbler in most artistic pursuits. He liked the society of artists; and he was accustomed to spend some hundreds, or even thousands, a year out of his enormous income, in the purchase of modern pictures.
She looked at it long, dry-eyed. It was as though it began already to be the face of a stranger. Eugénie, are you there? 'Yes, papa. Lord Findon, peering short-sightedly into the big drawing-room, obstructed by much furniture and darkened by many pictures, had not at first perceived the slender form of his daughter.
He doesn't know, but he thinks Mr. Watson has been lending him money. 'Artists are always so good to one another, said Lord Findon, complacently. 'Nice fellow, Watson but quite mad. 'Papa, you are incorrigible. I tell you he has been in great straits. He has not been able to buy a winter overcoat, and Mr. Cuningham suspects he has often not had enough to eat.
Lord Findon must needs suppose he did not choose to know that people were talking; and if Eugénie would not free herself from her wretched Albert, she must not provide him poor child! with any plausible excuse. All of which reasoning was strictly according to the canons as Lord Findon understood them; but it did not leave him much the happier.
The artists nowadays neglected travel. 'But you go! Beg your way, paint your way but go! Go before the wife and the babies come! Matrimony is the deuce. Don't you agree with me, Philip? He laid a familiar hand on the artist's arm. 'Take care! said Cuningham, laughing. 'You don't know what I may have been up to this summer. Findon shrugged his shoulders. 'I know a wise man when I see him.
'Thank you; I too am pleased to make yours, said Fenwick, nervously pulling at his gloves, and furious with his own malaise. Lady Findon's eyebrows lifted in amusement. She threw him another glance. Good-looking! but really Findon should wait till they were a little décrotté.
The light was still good enough to show Lord Findon that, in spite of her flicker of gaiety, Eugénie was singularly pale. And he knew well that they were both listening for the same step on the stairs. However, he tried to keep it up. 'Genius? he said, humming and hawing 'genius? How do we know what it is or who has it? Everybody's so diabolically clever nowadays.
'Well, I'm off to bed. Smiling, she gave her hand to each, knowing that she had gained her point, or would gain it. Arthur Welby, turning, watched her move away, say 'Good-night' to Lady Findon, and disappear through a distant door. Then for him, though the room was still full of people, it was vacant. He slipped away without any more 'Good-byes. It was Christmas Eve, and the dark had fallen.
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