"He is one and the same. He was changed for a few months; but to-day he is what he used to be, and what he will be always--the artist who loves you and longs for you. Dora, what have you to say in reply?" "My head burns so, dear friend, spare me now. We will talk again ... but by and by." A knock was heard at the door. "Oh, would you mind seeing who that is?--I am not expecting anyone," said Dora. Dora threw an anxious look towards the door. Lorimer went and opened it. The visitor was no other than our old friend, Sir Benjamin Pond, City alderman and patron of arts in his spare moments. He evidently expected to find himself in a hall or anteroom, instead of straightway standing in a studio in the presence of Dora and Lorimer. He was seized with a little fit of timidity, which he had difficulty in mastering, and which made him awkward in the extreme. He removed his hat and stood turning it in his hands. Regaining his equilibrium, after a moment, he advanced respectfully towards Dora, without venturing, however, to hold out his hand. "My dear Mrs. Grantham--Mr. Lorimer, how do you do?" Dora and Lorimer bowed distantly without speaking, and seemed to wait for him to explain the object of his visit. The worthy man wished himself under the floor. "I came," he said, stammering, "I came--that is to say, it's just this--I only heard yesterday of your removal here, quite by accident, and I also heard that you had with you the picture that I so much wanted to purchase last year. Ah, there it is, I see. You observe I have not lost all hope of possessing it, that picture which" ... Dora and Lorimer looked at Sir Benjamin without uttering a word, and the poor man grew more and more embarrassed. "Well," he went on, "I have come to beg you to sell it to me. That is why I came early--to be sure to find you in. I do not, my dear madam, wish to profit by the regrettable circumstances in which you find yourself placed, to offer you a low price, or to bargain for the picture, believe me. No, no, I have too much respect for you, too much admiration for the painter. I wish to behave honourably over the matter, and deal generously, as a gentleman should." He would have given hundreds of pounds to be leagues away from this studio that he had pushed his way into. "I will willingly give you," added he, "five hundred pounds for the picture. What do you say to the offer?" Dora and Lorimer did not open their lips. Their eyes never quitted those of the alderman. Lorimer moved back a little to a more retired post of observation: the scene began to interest him keenly. To Dora five hundred pounds was a small fortune. Would she sell the canvas? By withdrawing a little, he placed her more at her ease, left her free to decide according to the dictates of her heart, while, as I said before, he himself obtained a better view of the little comedy that was being enacted before him.