She looked at her brother with anxious scrutinising eyes. No, George Fairfax had not deceived her. He had the look of a man who was going the wrong way. There were premature lines across the forehead, and about the dark brilliant eyes; a nervous expression in the contracted lips. It was the face of a man who burns the candle of life at both ends. Late hours, anxiety, dissipation of all kinds, had set their fatal seal upon his countenance. "Dear Austin, you are as handsome as ever; but I don't think you are looking well," she said tenderly. "Don't look so alarmed, my dear girl," he answered lightly; "I am well enough; that is to say, I am never ill, never knock under, or strike work. There are men who go through life like that--never ill, and never exactly well. I rarely get up in the morning without a headache; but I generally brighten considerably as the sun goes down. We move with a contrary motion, Helios and I." "I am afraid you work too hard, and sit up too late." "As to working hard, my dear, that is a necessity; and going out every night is another necessity. I get my commissions in society." "But you must have a reputation by this time, Austin; and commissions would come to you, I should think, without your courting them." "No, child; I have only a reputation _de salon_, I am only known in a certain set. And a man must live, you see. To a man himself that is the primary necessity. Your _generosity_ set me on my legs last year, and tempted me to take this floor, and make a slight advance movement altogether. I thought better rooms would bring me better work--sitters for a new style of cabinet-portraits, and so on. But so far the rooms have been comparatively a useless extravagance. However, I go out a good deal, and meet a great many influential people; so I can scarcely miss a success in the end." "But if you sacrifice your health in the meantime, Austin." "Sacrifice my health! That's just like a woman. If a man looks a trifle pale, and dark under the eyes, she begins to fancy he's dying. My poor little wife takes just the same notions into her head, and would like me to stop at home every evening to watch her darn the children's stockings." "I think your wife is quite right to be anxious, Austin; and it would be much better for you to stay at home, even to see stockings darned. It must be very dull for her too when you are out, poor soul." Mr. Lovel shrugged his shoulders with a deprecating air. "_C'est son metier,_" he said. "I suppose she does find it rather dismal at times; but there are the children, you see--it is a woman's duty to find all-sufficient society in her children. And now, Clary, tell me about yourself. You have made a brilliant match, and are mistress of Arden Court. A strange stroke of fortune that. And you are happy, I hope, my dear?"