I did not know then that her attitude
towards me at this moment came from the final struggle in her breast
between her pride and that remorse which afterwards took possession
of her and seemed as though it would make the remainder of her life a
tragedy without a smile in it. At that moment Wilderspin and Sleaford
came in from the smaller studio. 'Where is she?' I said to
Wilderspin. 'Take me to her at once--take me to her who sat for this
picture. It is she whom I and Sinfi Lovell were seeking in Wales.'
A look of utter astonishment, then one of painful perplexity, came
over his face--a look which I attributed to his having heard part of
the conversation between my mother and myself.
'You mean the--the--model? She is not here, Mr. Aylwin,' said he.
'The same young lady you were seeking in Wales! Mysterious indeed are
the ways of the spirit world!' and then his lips moved silently as
though in prayer.
'Where is she?' I asked again.
'I will tell you all about her soon--when we are alone,' he said in
an undertone. 'Does the picture satisfy you?'
The picture! He was thinking of his art.
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