"He smiled, returned the pressure of my hand in a frank, honest way that I liked, and then looked after my darling in a way that I did not like; for this was not what I meant, and my jealousy was aroused. I expected some snuffy-looking old painter, not a grave handsome young fellow. But I remembered Tom Smith's words--`He is a gentleman, and a man of honour'--and casting away my suspicious thoughts, I entered into the subject at once. "`I'd half forgotten it,' I said. `She'll make a good picture, eh?' "`Admirable, sir. That position struck me at once as I entered.' "`I'll show you a better one than that, my boy,' I chuckled. `But I'm a business man: what's your figure--the price, eh?' "He hesitated, and his lip quivered as he said-- "`Would--fifteen guineas be too much?' "`Fifteen!' I said. "`I should take great pains with it--it will be a long task,' he said eagerly; and there was trouble in the wrinkles of his forehead. `But if you think it too much--' "`I think it an absurd price, sir,' I said testily, for Smith had said he was very poor. `Why, my friend Wilson gave four hundred for a bit of a scrap of canvas--' "`By a very clever artist, sir,' he said, with a grave smile. "`Look here,' I said, `Mr--Mr--Grantly. You make a good picture of it, and I'll give you fifty guineas.' "He flushed, and look pained. "`Less than half would pay me well, sir,' he said. "`Tut, tut! stuff man! Smith told me you were poor and hard up. You always will be if you are not more of a man of business.' "`Sir!' he exclaimed, rising and looking at me angrily, `I came here expecting the treatment--' "He stopped short, reeled, sank into his chair, and covered his face with his hands. "`My dear sir--I--really--I--I didn't mean--' "I stammered, perspiring at every pore, for the position was most painful. "`No, no,' he said hastily, `I beg your pardon. But--but,' he continued, striving manfully to master his emotion, `I have been very ill, sir, and I am weak. I have been unfortunate--almost starving at times. I have not broken bread since yesterday morning--I could not without selling my colours. I--I am much obliged--forgive me--let me go back to town. Oh, my God! has it come to this?' "He sank back half fainting, but started as I roared out, `Go away!' for Cobweb was coming into the room. "`Thank you,' he said, softly as he saw what I had done. `It was kind of you.' "`My dear fellow,' I said, `this is terrible;' and I mopped my face. `There, sit still--back directly.' "I ran out to find Cobweb in the hall. "`Oh, you dear, good father!' she cried, with tears in her eyes. `What a kind surprise! But is anything wrong?' "`Artist little faint,' I said. `Here, the sherry--biscuits. Stop away a bit.' "I ran back with them, and made him take some wine; and, thus revived, he rose and thanked me. "`What are you going to do?' I said, staring.