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But the remaining loans, including important and valuable drawings by himself, he did not withdraw, and it is to be hoped they may stay there to show not only the artist's hand but the friendly heart of the founder and benefactor. In April, 1887, came the news of Laurence Hilliard's death in the Aegean, with a shock that intensified the tendency to another recurrence of illness.
Her fingers pressed it tightly, almost spasmodically, and upon them she seemed to feel, even to see, Nick Hilliard's hands, brown and strong. It was only her fancy; but it was not fancy that they burned to clasp hers. She felt that longing of his, so vital, so passionate, creating the picture it desired.
The younger man never doubted for an instant that his coup in securing Hilliard's assistance at the eleventh hour was responsible for his enemy's sudden appearance from cover, nor that the arrival of The Bedford Castle had brought Marsh to the banker's office out of hours in final desperation.
She had come here giving her time and money far more than she could afford and her nerve-tissue, in Nick Hilliard's cause; and all in the hope of making his "star" see the error of her ways. But when the cruel star broke down and cried uncontrollably, in anguish of soul, the hardness and anger which Nick's champion had cherished melted into pity. "I do hope you'll forgive me," she stammered.
Nobody was ever harmed by healthy enjoyment." "Was it healthy for her? That's the question." Hilliard mused, and felt disinclined to discuss the matter. "That isn't the only news I have for you," said Eve presently. "I've had another letter." Her voice arrested Hilliard's step as he paced near her. "I had rather not have told you anything about it, but I promised.
Repulsive as this draggled specimen appeared, it might know something worth his, Nick Hilliard's, while to learn; and he was not going to give up because of first impressions. He had not met Montagu Jerrold before, but had heard of him often during the last three or four months since the Englishman "blew into" Lucky Star City.
She shook off the impression, however, and asked Shelby to take her away. "Yes; it's time to leave for the rally," he acquiesced. "I'll speak to the Hilliards." As they turned, they saw that Mrs. Hilliard's eyes were riveted on the widow's in an hypnotic stare. In shrill singsong the woman was declaiming:
Aunt Caroline said with feeling that Dr. Hilliard's death was a blessing, after all, since it brought a long-separated father and son together once more. Grafton had been misjudged and ill-used, and he called Heaven to witness that the quarrel had never been of his seeking, a statement which Mr. Carvel was at no pains to prove perjury. How attentive was Mr. Grafton to his father's every want.
Grundy for Mrs. Hilliard's sake, scrupulously meeting and leaving the lady outside the corporation limits, a ruse which deceived nobody save the deceivers. Nor was it effective now. Ruth passed Mrs. Bowers's argus-eyed bay window, as did Shelby, and Mrs. Grundy had her speculative pickings of the event. Ruth spied pursuit where the turnpike elbowed sharply from the outskirts.
Cosme's cigarette burned between his stiff fingers. "What do you mean?" he asked, hoarse with the effort of his self-control. She looked at him sharply now. "Are you Paul Carey Hilliard's son the son of Roxana Hilliard?" she asked. She pointed a finger at him. "Yes," he answered with thin lips. His eyes narrowed. His face was all Latin, all cruel.
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