The Argosy — page 149: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

134 Christobel. “was slowly dying.” Constantly Christobel was summoned to him, and would remain so long as to exhaust Fortescue’s patience. Marianna, guessing, perhaps, his feelings, explained to him that the caprices of sick people are many, and that her cousin liked no one to be near him so well as Christobel. Fortescue could not be reconciled to the thought of her being the slave of a fretful invalid, and told himself that the Mirandolas might have relieved her of such a task, had they chosen. Once he even went so far as to make some observation of the kind to Christobel herself, but she checked him at once, saying simply : ‘You do not.understand. I do nothing but what I like.” ‘All this time Fortescue had not mentioned to the Hillyers, or even to Verschoyle, that he had discovered Christobel. Instinctively he felt that she would prefer his being silent, and the secret was so exquisite to him that to divulge it would have been a pain. As an excuse for seeing her oftener and for looking at her longer, he asked her to let him make a sketch of her head. She consented, on condition that the little picture, when finished, should be a present to Signor Mirandola on his birthday, and the sittings were in conse- quence kept unknown to that gentleman. Sometimes Marianna accompanied Christobel to the studio ; sometimes Concetta. As both promptly dropped asleep, it would be hard to say which of the two made the more delightful chaperone. A month had passed in this way, when Mrs. Chisholm, always bent on being charming, and having nothing very particular to do, suddenly bethought herself that she would visit Fortescue’s studio. ‘“She did not,” as she explained to Geraldine, “suppose that he had the least talent,” having a way of concluding that people who lose money must be insignificant at best, but patronage had its charms for her, and she felt that ‘‘the poor fellow would be so glad to see them.” So one day, when out with Geraldine, she suddenly ordered the coachman to drive her to Cardigan Gardens, and almost before Fortescue had time to say ‘‘ come in,” she followed up her knock by putting her fashionably-adorned head inside the studio-door. The apparition delighted Fortescue moderately, more especially as he had not time to conceal Christobel’s portrait, on which Mrs. Chisholm pounced at once. ‘“ What do Isee?” she exclaimed. ‘ Dena, look here! How like! Flattered, though. Surely not a sketch from memory?” and she turned in rapid interrogation to Fortescue. ‘““T have had a few sittings.” ‘Then Miss Fane is in London? But I suppose I must not ask. Hum—lIs that landscape yours >—I am no judge—you have not much to show—doubtless you have been occupied in many ways. Dena, I think we ought to go. Mr. Fortescue may be expecting a model.” And with the airy impertinence in which she was mistress, Mrs. CONNIClOOKS (E(©) m