"I expect to when the families return;" and he gave a faint, wan smile. "I have had another streak of luck, Jack. A lady, a very wealthy widow, is building a house in one of the pretty towns up the Hudson, and it is to be finished with all the elegance art can bring. She saw one of my articles, and sent to me; and we have been corresponding. In September I am to go to New York, and make arrangements. There is to be painting and frescoing, and rooms finished in different styles,--indeed, I cannot tell the half myself, until I see her." The pale face had kindled with a fine and proud enthusiasm. More than ever, Jack recognized the artistic refinement of his friend. What would law or medicine have been to him as a profession? "Humph!" grunted Jack. "A great vacation that will be! But you _must_ be careful, or you will not live out half your days. You've a look in your face like the little chap I first knew." The smile that crossed it then, Jack did not understand. It seemed to Fred Lawrence that half his days would suffice, when Sylvie Barry was his friend's wife. "Yet you see the 'little chap' lived"--with an attempt at gayety. "Yes. And, Fred, I am more glad than I can put into words, to know that you have been so successful. It is just the career for you. It's odd that a great commonplace, blundering fellow like me should have two such artistic friends as you and Sylvie Barry." The well-trained face did not blanch a muscle. He felt, with a flash of subtile inner consciousness, that Darcy was studying him. Thank God, he could stand before his friend free from a thought of treachery! All these weeks he had walked over burning coals, but the smell of the fire was not in his garments. Jack thought it over long after Fred had gone. Why could not these two people see! Surely they were meant for one another. It puzzled, it almost fretted him. Sylvie was so peculiar, so changed in these few weeks! What did it all mean? And on Saturday when he was to go down to the beach, Fred pleaded some urgent business to a neighboring city. He was not quite brave enough to see them together. "I have been meaning to go for some time," he said with gravity, "but I did not like to think they would be alone over Sunday. Now that you will be there, I certainly can spare three or four days." "See here," returned Jack,--"wait until Monday. Come, we'll have a nice day together down there on the sands. Sundays always seem so wonderful by the ocean, with the grand chant forever in your ears. The very waves are saying,-- "'Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord.'" But Fred Lawrence would not suffer himself to be persuaded. CHAPTER XXIII.