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Updated: June 28, 2025
By moving her chair a few inches she could see into the room. He was still standing by Lady Meltoun's side, listening with an absent smile to her chatter, and every now and then bowing gravely to the people whom she introduced to him. The hum of conversation had been renewed, but many curious glances were cast in his direction, of which he seemed altogether unconscious.
And so it was in Lady Meltoun's drawing-room that they met again, after those few minutes in the pine plantation which had given color and passion to her life, and which had formed an epoch in his.
She was too much of the artist to be without it. "He is not here now, but he will be. I could not believe it myself at first, for I know that he is a perfect recluse. But I have just asked Lady Meltoun, and there is no doubt about it. It seems that they came across him in a lonely part of Spain, and he saved the life of Lady Meltoun's only child a little boy. It is quite a romantic story.
And then she caught a turn of his head as he stooped down over Lady Meltoun's hand, and a great wave of bewilderment, mingled with an acute throbbing joy, swept in upon her. This man, whom every one was gazing at with such eager interest, was her father's tenant, Mr. Bernard Brown.
"I should like it," she said. "Walk that side of me, please." They rose and made their way to one of the little screened recesses which people especially young people said made Lady Meltoun's rooms so delightful. He placed a chair for her, and taking up a book of engravings buried himself in it. "Don't speak to me for five minutes, please," he said. "I am looking for a design."
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