"Well, the painter had depicted the Mother standing alone, with sombre clouds beneath her white feet, her hands, long and pale, folded across her breast, and her face with a yearning expression lifted to a ray of light from the mystic dove of the Holy Ghost, which pierced the darkness of the sky. There was no infant Jesus in her arms, such as we generally see in altar-pieces, and I fancy the idea of the artist was to depict Mary as a pure solitary woman, before the announcement of the Conception. In her eyes, sad and deep, dwelt an expression of intense yearning, and on her beautiful face the look of a woman longing for the pleasures of maternity. "I never forgot the hopeless craving of that gaze, the hungry longing for the fondling arms and inarticulate cries of a child. Only once have I seen such a look on a human countenance, and that was on Lady Errington's before her marriage; she had the same hungry look in her eyes which can only be appeased by the birth of a child, and which will give her that special love and affection needed to complete her life. Therefore I call her an incomplete Madonna, for when she becomes a mother that yearning gaze will pass away for ever, and be succeeded by the serene beatitude that painters give the face of the Virgin when she clasps the child Jesus to her breast, encircled by the adoring hosts of heaven." "That is a very poetical interpretation of a picture," said Otterburn when Eustace had ended. "I doubt however if I should draw the same conclusions were I to see the picture." "You will not see the picture I refer to but you will meet Lady Errington, then you can give me your opinion." "I'm afraid it will not coincide with yours. But if all her love is thus centred on the coming of a child, when it is born she will love it passionately to the exclusion of her husband." "Perhaps!" replied Eustace calmly. "However we shall see. It is a curious study of a woman's character, and I am anxious to see if my idea is a correct one. Of this, however, I am certain, that the day a child is born to Alizon Errington will be a sad day for her husband if he worships her over much, for he will have to be satisfied with the crumbs of love that fall from the child's table." "Ah! that is one of those things yet to be proved," said Otterburn rising, as the train, approaching Chiasso, slowed gradually down. "But here we are at the end of our journey." "For which the Lord be thanked," replied Eustace, and jumped out on to the platform. CHAPTER III. THE WANING OF THE HONEYMOON. "Ah, love how quickly fades the rose, When after sunshine come the snows, So joys may change to cruel woes Thro' Cupid's treason. But roses will their bloom renew, And snows fall not from heavens blue, So hearts like ours will still be true, Through every season."