Rachel had, however, long to wait. As she said, Captain Keith was one

of those inborn loiterers who, made punctual by military duty, revenge

themselves by double tardiness in the common affairs of life. Impatience

had nearly made her revoke her good opinion of him, and augur that,

knowing himself vanquished, he had left the field to her, when at last

a sound of wheels was heard, a dog-cart stopped at the door, and Captain

Keith entered with an enormous blue and gold volume under his arm.

"I am sorry to be so late," he said, "but I have only now succeeded in

procuring my ally."

"An ally?"

"Yes, in this book. I had to make interest at the Avoncester Library,

before I could take it away with me." As he spoke he placed the book

desk-fashion on a chair, and turned it so that Ermine might see it; and

she perceived that it was a bound-up volume of the "Illustrated London

News." Two marks were in it, and he silently parted the leaves at the

first.

It revealed the lace-making beauty in all her rural charms.

"I see," said Rachel; "it is the same figure, but not the same shaped

picture."

Without another word, Alick Keith opened the pages at the lace-school;

and here again the figures were identical, though the margin had been

differently finished off.

"I perceive a great resemblance," again said Rachel, "but none that is

not fully explained by Mr. Mauleverer's accurate resemblance and desire

to satirize foolish sentiment."

Alick Keith took up the woodcut. "I should say," he observed, holding

it up to the light, "that it was unusual to mount a proof engraving so

elaborately on a card."

"Oh, I see what your distrust is driving at; you suspect the designs of

being pasted on."

"There is such a test as water," suggested Alick.

"I should be ashamed to return the proof to its master, bearing traces

of unjust suspicion."

"If the suspicion you impute to me be unjust, the water will produce no

effect at all."

"And you engage to retract all your distrust and contempt, if you are

convinced that this engraving is genuine?"

"I do," he answered steadily.

With irritated magnanimity Rachel dipped her finger into the vase

of flowers on the table, and let a heavy drop of water fall upon the

cottage scene. The centre remained unaltered, and she looked round in

exultation, saying, "There, now I suppose I may wipe it off."

Neither spoke, and she applied her pocket handkerchief. What came

peeling away under her pressure? It was the soft paper, and as she was

passing the edge of the figure of the girl, she found a large smear

following her finger. The peculiar brown of Indian ink was seen upon her

handkerchief, and when she took it up a narrow hem of white had become

apparent between the girl's head and its surroundings. Neither spectator

spoke, they scarcely looked at her, when she took another drop from the

vase, and using it more boldly found the pasted figure curling up and

rending under her hand, lines of newspaper type becoming apparent, and

the dark cloud spreading around.




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