"Is that a fact?" inquired a man who was seated at the other side of the table, and who had listened with great interest to the story.
"A positive fact," said the Doctor. "One of those many singular circumstances which occur in life, and which are beyond all explanation."
Gervase moved restlessly; then filling for himself a glass of claret, drained it off thirstily.
"Something of the same kind has happened to me," he said with a hard, mirthless laugh, "for out of the most perfect beauty I have only succeeded in presenting an atrocity."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Lady Fulkeward. "What a disappointing day you must have had! But of course, you will try again; the Princess will surely give you another sitting?"
"Oh, yes! I shall certainly try again and yet again, and ever so many times again," said Gervase, with a kind of angry obstinacy in his tone, "the more so as she has told me I will never succeed in painting her."
"She told you that, did she?" put in Dr. Dean, with an air of lively interest.
"Yes."
Just then the handing round of fresh dishes and the clatter of knives and forks effectually put a stop to the conversation for the time, and Gervase presently glancing about him saw that Denzil Murray and his sister were dining apart at a smaller table with young Lord Fulkeward and Ross Courtney. Helen was looking her fairest and best that evening--her sweet face, framed in its angel aureole of bright hair had a singular look of pureness and truth expressed upon it rare to find in any woman beyond her early teens. Unconsciously to himself, Gervase sighed as he caught a view of her delicate profile, and Lady Fulkeward's sharp ears heard the sound of that sigh.
"Isn't that a charming little party over there?" she asked. "Young people, you know! They always like to be together! That very sweet girl, Miss Murray, was so much distressed about her brother to- day,--something was the matter with him--a touch of fever, I believe,--that she begged me to let Fulke dine with them in order to distract Mr. Denzil's mind. Fulke is a dear boy, you know--very consoling in his ways, though he says so little. Then Mr. Courtney volunteered to join them, and there they are. The Chetwynd Lyles are gone to a big dinner at the Continental this evening."
"The Chetwynd Lyles--let me see. Who are they?" mused Gervase aloud, "Do I know them?"