"The President has been unexpectedly summoned to an audience with his Majesty, who has come in from Kew to St. James's this morning," he explained. "Be so good as to wait for Sir Joshua, who will return before long. Shall I request Miss Reynolds to come and keep you company?" "Why disturb her? There are so many curious things here to amuse one! One might pass a whole day looking about this apartment without being bored for a moment." "So be it!" replied Frank in a slightly tremulous voice. "Shall we look about together?" He forthwith proceeded to show her all the rare objects arranged in order within their glazed cases, giving her explanations of everything. There were snuff-boxes, fans of which one was said to be the work of the poet Pope, and foreign arms brought home by Sir Joshua from a journey in barbaric lands. Frank also named the originals of the unfinished portraits which awaited upon their easels the good pleasure of the painter. The door of the adjoining apartment, whence the girl had seen him emerge upon the preceding day, stood ajar; she quickly glanced within and saw a quantity of antique casts spread upon large tables, and plaster heads heaped one upon another. "It is there that I paint," he said, "in order that I may always be near at hand in case Sir Joshua should call me." "As yesterday," she said rashly; then, realizing the memory which she had evoked, she blushed. As for him, he became pale. However, she soon continued:-- "Sir Joshua loves you very dearly." "He treats me with an almost paternal kindness; I respect him, and entertain for him the affection of a son. I owe him all that--" "Yes, I know." "Ah, but you cannot know all. Perhaps you have been told that I have been adopted and educated by Sir Joshua, but if you only knew from what a future of misery and despair he has snatched me, from what a hell he has saved me!" He pronounced these words with so simple, so profound an accent that the girl, suddenly touched with sympathy, bent her eyes upon him and said:-- "Where were you before you knew him, and what did you do?" "I lived with the pirates of the Thames, who forced me to learn their horrible business." "But how happened it that you fell into such hands?" "I know not. I know neither my birthplace nor my parents. Even my true age is unknown to me. I have nothing in the world, not even so much as a name--only a surname; they called me Mishap. Perhaps my parents were like those wretches. The thought has often come to me, and driven me almost desperate." Esther did not speak, but her eyes assured Frank that she was listening with deepest interest. "We lived in a hovel," he continued, "down by the water, opposite Greenwich, and sometimes in a half-decayed barge on the river which was anchored some twenty yards from shore. By day they sent me on land to beg, and beat me if I returned empty-handed. At low tide I used to search the mud which the sea left dry when it retired." "For what purpose?"