Fairfax and His Pride Part 62

He took out his card, scribbled his address upon it, handed it to the stenographer, without asking anything of her but to let him know when she would come back.

The woman nodded sympathetically.

"It is unusual for a great heiress, like Miss Carew, to paint portraits."

"She is not a great heiress; Mr. Carew lost all his money two years ago.

I think Miss Carew is almost quite poor."

A radiant look came over Antony's face. "Thank you very much indeed," he said. "I count on you to take care of this little commission for me,"

and he went out of the room in ecstasy, closing the door behind him.

CHAPTER V

He left his hansom at the entrance of the park, at 72nd Street.

There, on the corner, stood his uncle's house, a monument, to him, of the past. His heart beat hard as he looked at the unfriendly dwelling from whose doors he had rushed on the night of the winter blizzard, when, as it had seemed to him then, little Gardiner's spirit rushed with him out into the storm. From those windows Bella had waved her hand.

How his spirits had risen high with hope, the night on which he had first gone up those steps. It was on that night Bella had said to him, "Why, you have got a light step and a heavy step, Cousin Antony. I never heard any one walk like that before."

He tramped into Central Park, taking his way to the Metropolitan Museum.

At the door he was informed that the museum was closed. He gave his card, and, after a few words with the man in charge, Thomas Rainsford the sculptor was let in and found himself, to all intents and purposes, alone. He wandered about the sculptures, wondering where the statue of little "Bella" would be placed.

The rooms were delightfully restful. He chose a bench and sat down, resting and musing.

In front of one of the early Italian pictures stood an easel with a copy exposed upon it to his view. A reproduction of a sixteenth-century Madonna with a child upon her breast. The copy showed the hand of an adept in colour and drawing. Antony looked at it with keen pleasure, musing upon the beauty of the child.

Afterwards he rose and went into the Egyptian room, lingering there. But when he came back the painter was there before her easel, and Antony stood in the doorway to watch her at work.

She wore a long brown linen painting ap.r.o.n that covered her form, evidently a slender form, evidently a young form. She painted ardently, with confidence and absorption. As Antony watched her, her pose, her ardour, the poise of her body, the lovely dark head, the gestures, the fire of her, brought all of a sudden his past rushing back to him. The sight of her came to him with a thrilling, wonderful remembrance. He came forward, his light step and his heavy step falling on the hard wood floors of the museum.

She turned before he was close to her, her palette and her brushes in her hand. She stood for a moment immovable, then gave a little cry, dropped her palette and brushes on the floor, grew white, then blushed deeply and held out both her hands to him.

"Cousin Antony!"

He took her hands in his, could not find his voice even to say her name.

He heard her say--

"They told me you were dead! I thought you had died long ago--I thought another man had taken your genius and your fame."

She spoke fast, with catching breath, in a low vibrant tone that he remembered--how he did remember it! His very life seemed to breathe on her lips in the sound of her voice. "Flow gently, sweet Afton"--the music was here--here--all the music in the world!

"I know who you are now; I saw it in the paper. I read it this morning.

I saw your picture, and I knew." She stopped to catch her breath deeply.

"Oh, I'm so glad!"

She was more beautiful than he had dreamed she would be; brilliant, bewitching, and the flowers of his past cl.u.s.tered round her.

"I heard them falling through the rooms, the light step and the heavy step."

Slowly by both her hands which he held he drew her toward him, and as he held her cheek against his lips he heard her murmur--

"Back from the dead! Cousin Antony.... No, just Antony!"

"Little cousin!" he said. "Bella!"

THE END