"'One only thing, as I have said, is to me a constant thorn of regret--the destruction of the picture I painted in those early days, of my Maddalena. It was all my heart and strength could do, and would have served to tell of all I might have done had God but spared me my right hand. But _fiat voluntas tua, Domine_! None knows for certain how it was destroyed, nor by whom. For the statement of the Old Devil to my Maddalena, that it was burned, for that it was judged worthless by men of great knowledge in Art, and condemned as rubbish, is of little weight. In those last days what could have been the motive of such a statement but to add to my darling's pain? It was averred by the Ferretti, even to the day that he went to the gibbet, that it was removed to a place of safety by order of the Duke; but either he did not choose to say to what place, or possibly did not know. And when all the contents of the rooms the Duke had lived in were removed, and the late Duke, his son, came and took possession of the castle, so deep was his hatred of his father's memory--as, indeed, he believed his mother had been poisoned by his orders--that he had all the furniture removed, and all the pictures that might bring back the wicked old man's memory to his mind. And there was no such picture among them, as I saw myself; for by invitation of Duke Giulio, with whom I have always been on friendly terms, I inspected every picture as it was removed from the Ducal apartments, the walls of which, as you know, were so worthily decorated afterwards by Francesco Primaticcio, to whom I would so proudly have shown that one little work by mine own hand. But, alas! there is, I fear, no doubt that for once only the old Duke spoke without lying, and that in truth he had had it burned, for a _dispetto_ to me, and to give a little more pain to my darling....'" At this point Mr. Pelly, being close to the end, read quicker and quicker, to make a finish before the outcome of the carriage, whatever it was, should be made manifest and break up the _séance_. But the time was too short, as Mr. Stebbings the butler appeared, charged, as it seemed, with some communication, but hesitating about the choice of language in which to make it. "General Fordyce, your ladyship. The General desired me to say, Sir Stopleigh, would you be so good as speak to him a half a minute?" But Sir S. was slow of apprehension, perhaps sleepy, and said hay what! Both ladies spoke together. "It _is_ the General! Don't you understand? He wants you to go out and speak to him." "Me go out and speak to him--what for?" "You'll find that out by going. Look alive, Pupsey!" "I'm coming, Stebbings! What on earth can the General want to say to me?" "Do go and see him, and find out." This was in chorus, from both ladies, as before. Exit Pupsey. "I wonder what it can be! However, we shall hear directly. Is there any more to read, Uncle Christopher?"