Kitty Lascelles watched her model out of the room with some intentness.
When she turned away at last, she gave a little troubled sigh, and
looked at Bell, standing before her picture. Bell answered the look by
an extremely brief question. "Well?"
"Bell," said the other girl, in a very low voice, "does it strike you
that there is anything odd about that--Italian?"
"Odd?" repeated Bell.
"I can't make him out," said Kitty, uneasily. "It must be fancy, of
course, but still I don't really think he is quite what he seems."
"In what way?"
"You'll laugh, Bell, but--do you think he looks like a common man? He
doesn't talk like one, at any rate. I think it is just as well he is
not coming again. I--"
"Well," interrupted her friend, "what do you say to his hands?"
"Then, that struck you too?" exclaimed Kitty eagerly. "Why what is it?"
For Bell had flung herself into a chair in a sudden paroxysm of
laughter, so long and so unchecked that for a time she could not speak.
"So you suspect at last?" she cried. "Oh, Kitty, Kitty!"
"What do you mean?" cried the girl. "Bell, I shall shake you if you are
so dreadfully silly. What do you mean? What do you know? Oh, Bell,
don't be provoking!"
"But I want you to guess. I shan't tell you until you have had at least
six guesses. Who do you suppose--only you never will suppose, that's
the worst of it!--still, who, of all unlikely persons, has been your
model?"
Kitty drew herself up.
"I don't know; and if you knew and did not tell me, I am not sure that I
shall ever forgive you."
This terrible threat appeared in no way to disconcert her friend.
"Guess."
Kitty shook her head, and walked to the window.
"Come back, or I won't tell you."
Kitty hesitated; then marched back.
"Tell me directly."
"It was Mr Everitt himself."
"Bell!"
The hot colour surged up all over the girl's face and throat; after that
one word, she stood speechless. Her model Mr Everitt, the painter--the
great painter, as she called him! It was impossible, impossible! But
Bell's amusement was intense, "I don't know that I should have told you
yet, if you had not suspected something in that innocent little way of
yours. Still, it was almost more than I could keep to myself; and oh,
Kitty, imagine the situation when last night I met him at a
dinner-party!"
But Kitty did not laugh.
"Bell," she said gravely, "I can't believe it. I am sure you must be
making some extraordinary mistake."
"My dear, I am quite, quite certain. Why, even my father, who only saw
him here yesterday, fidgeted all last night about some likeness. I
didn't say a word. It wouldn't do with papa."
"It will not do with any of us," said Kitty, with spirit.
"You won't tell your father?"
"I shall tell mother, and she can act as she likes."
"Take care," said Bell, more seriously. "You don't want a regular fuss
to grow out of a bit of absurdity. What has he done?"
"He has come here in a false position and under false pretences. I
think it dreadful. What could make him behave so?"
"Shall I tell you what I believe? That it was laziness or good-nature.
I dare say he forgot all about the model, and then was afraid you would
be awfully disappointed. Mrs Marchmont said so much about it. It is
all over now, and remember, he did his utmost to get out of coming
to-day."
"Mother must judge."
"Well, I think you are extremely hard on the poor man. You would not
have liked it at all if you had waited through yesterday morning and had
no model. I am sure he was very uncomfortable himself."
"And that was the reason he stood so badly!" cried Kitty. "I hope he
_was_ uncomfortable."
"Kitty," said Bell earnestly, "if I were you I would say nothing about
it. You don't know what mischief you may set going. It is over and
done with; he is not coming again, and if you appear to remain in
ignorance, you will be in a far more dignified position than if our
fathers bring a clatter about his ears. If he really took the character
in order to do you a kindly turn, it will be very ungrateful of you to
damage his reputation."
"Then, you allow," said Kitty, with her head thrown back, "that it is
damaging?"
"I think he has done a thing which might tell against him immensely; but
I don't think a scrap the worse of him myself. There!" said Bell.
Kitty was silent, but there was that in her face which did not satisfy
the other girl.
"I believe you are dreadfully unforgiving," she said. As she spoke, she
walked to the window and knelt on the low window-seat. Kitty followed
her, looking pale.
"Bell, I really am vexed. I think it is particularly unfortunate," she
said. "You know that it has cost father a great deal to let me have my
way, and make a profession of my painting; there have been a dozen lions
in the way at least. But such a lion as this never entered our heads.
Don't you see that if he hears of a gentleman dressing up and coming
here as a model, there will be an end of everything? Supposing, even,
that it is as you say, a mere good-natured freak, do you think that he
is likely to understand it in that light?"