‘It is now nearly two years,’ began the vicar, ‘since Madame De Vigne and her sister, Miss Loraine, came down to Oaklands, bringing with them a letter of introduction from my London lawyer, a certain Mr Railton, whom I have known for a dozen years or more. How Madame De Vigne came to be known to Railton, or what he knew with regard to her and her antecedents, I had not the curiosity to ask at the time, and I have never since made it my business to inquire. It is sufficient to say that Madame De Vigne had seen advertised as being to let a certain furnished cottage which she thought would suit her requirements; hence her visit to Oaklands. The cottage did suit her. She became its tenant, and there she and her sister have lived ever since, shunning rather than courting such society as our neighbourhood affords, but visiting a good deal among the sick and poor. One day about six months ago, while I was out fishing I encountered a young fellow who was similarly engaged. We met again and again, striking up an acquaintance as brother Piscators have a knack of doing, till finally I invited him to dinner at the vicarage, on which occasion Penelope there took quite a fancy to the young man.’ ‘Of course I did,’ answered Miss Pen, looking up quickly. ‘Any one else placed as I was at the time would have taken a fancy to him. I was just in want of some one to sit for the hero of my next novel, and Archie came in very handy.’ Dr M‘Murdo started. ‘But, my dear Miss Gaisford, you don’t mean to say that you make a practice of introducing portraits of your friends and acquaintances into the stories you write?’ ‘Don’t I though! I shall have your portrait jotted down in my note-book before you are many hours older. I have no doubt it will come in useful one of these days.’ ‘Good gracious! I hope you won’t paint me in very dark colours.’ ‘Not blacker than you deserve, you may rely upon it.’ Then to herself she said: ‘Where was I?—Yes—yes,’ and so went on with her writing. ‘Well, that first visit of young Ridsdale to the vicarage was but the forerunner of several others,’ resumed the vicar as equably as though he had not been interrupted. ‘It was there that he met Madame De Vigne and her pretty sister, and with the latter he at once fell desperately in love.’ ‘And the young lady fell desperately in love with him?’ ‘That is exactly what came to pass. But I’m nearly sure the affair might have been nipped in the bud had not Penelope, with true feminine perversity and reckless disregard of consequences, encouraged the two young nincompoops in their folly.’ ‘What else could you expect me to do?’ asked Miss Pen, without looking up. ‘When I see a little romance of real life going on under my very nose, do you think I’m the one to try to put a stop to it? No, indeed. Besides, it supplied me with a lot of hints for love-making scenes; it was what the painters call “a study from the life.”’