He bowed coldly. There was a light in her eyes, and a heightened colour on her cheek, which hardly looked like a friendly call. But that, of course, one could not expect. 'After our recent interview,' he said, 'and after the very remarkable string of accusations which fell from your lips, I could hardly expect to see you in my studio, Miss Rosevean.' 'I came only to communicate a resolution arrived at by my friends Mr. Roland Lee and Miss Effie Wilmot.' 'From your friends Mr. Roland Lee and Miss Effie Wilmot? May I offer you a chair?' 'Thank you. No. My message is only to tell you this. They have resolved to let the past remain unknown.' 'To let the past remain unknown.' He tried to appear careless, but the girl watched the sudden light of satisfaction in his eyes and the sudden expression of relief in his face. 'The past remain unknown,' he repeated. 'Yes--certainly. Am I--may I ask--interested in this decision?' 'That you know best, Mr. Feilding. It seems hardly necessary to try to carry it off with me--I know everything. But--as you please. They agree that they have been themselves deeply to blame: they cannot acquit themselves. Certainly it is a pitiful thing for an artist to own that he has sold his name and fame in a moment of despair.' 'It would be indeed a pitiful thing if it were ever done.' 'Nothing more, therefore, will be said by either of them as to the pictures or poems.' 'Indeed? From what you have already told me: from the gracious freedom of your utterances at the National Gallery, I seem to connect those two names with the charges you then brought. They refuse to bring forward, or to endorse, those charges, then? Do you withdraw them?' 'They do not refuse to bring forward the charges. They have never made those charges. I made them, and I, Mr. Feilding'--she raised her voice a little--'I do not withdraw them.' 'Oh! you do not withdraw them? May I ask what your word in the matter is worth unsupported by their evidence--even if their evidence were worth anything?' 'You shall hear what my word is worth. This picture'--she placed herself before it--'is painted by Mr. Roland Lee. Perhaps he will not say so. Oh! It is a beautiful picture--it is quite the best he has ever painted--yet. It is a true picture: you cannot understand either its beauty or its truth. You have never been to the place: you do not even know where it is: why, Sir, it is my birthplace. I lived there until I was sixteen years of age: the scene, like all the scenes in those pictures you call your own, was taken in the Scilly archipelago.' He started. 'You do not even know the girl who stands in the foreground--your own model. Why--it is my portrait--mine--look at me, Sir--it is my portrait. Now you know what my word is worth. I have only to stand before this picture and tell the world that this is my portrait.'