o the pity of it.

othello.

if a sudden reverse of fortune need not make us cynical, there is perhaps no other experience which brings us face to face so quickly and so closely with the realities of life.

the lorimers, indeed, had no great cause for complaint; and perhaps, in condemning the timons of this world, forgot that, as interesting young women, embarked moreover on an interesting enterprise, they were not themselves in a position to gauge the full depths of mundane perfidy.

of course, after a time, they dropped off from the old set, from the people with whom their intercourse had been a mere matter[pg 66] of social commerce; but, as phyllis justly observed, when you have no time to pay calls, no clothes to your back, no money for cabs, and very little for omnibuses, you can hardly expect your career to be an unbroken course of festivities.

on the other hand, many of their friends drew closer to them in the hour of need, and a great many good-natured acquaintances amused themselves by patronising the studio in upper baker street, and recommending other people to go and do likewise.

certainly these latter exacted a good deal for their money; were restive when posed, expected the utmost excellence of work and punctuality of delivery, and, like most of the lorimers' customers, seemed to think the sex of the photographers a ground for greater cheapness in the photographs.

one evening, towards the middle of october, the girls had assembled for the evening meal—it could not, strictly speaking, be called dinner—in the little sitting-room above the shop.

they were all tired, for the moment discouraged, and had much ado to maintain that cheerfulness which they held it a point of honour never to abandon.

[pg 67]

"how the evenings do draw in!" observed fan, who sat near the window, engaged in fancy-work.

fanny's housekeeping, by the way, had been tried, and found wanting; and the poor lady had, with great delicacy, been relegated to the vague duty of creating an atmosphere of home for her more strong-minded sisters. fortunately, she believed in the necessity of a thoroughly womanly presence among them, womanliness being apparently represented to her mind by any number of riband bows on the curtains, antimacassars on the chairs, and strips of embroidered plush on every available article of furniture; and accepted the situation without misgiving.

"yes," answered lucy, rather dismally; "we shall soon have the winter in full swing, fogs and all."

she had been up to the studio of an artist at st. john's wood that morning, making photographs of various studies of drapery for a big picture, and the results, when examined in the dark-room later on, had not been satisfactory; hence her unusual depression of spirits.

"for goodness' sake, lucy, don't speak[pg 68] in that tone!" cried phyllis, who was standing idly by the window. "what does it matter about mr. lawrence's draperies? nobody ever buys his pokey pictures. you've not been the same person ever since you developed those plates this afternoon."

"don't you see, phyllis, mr. russel introduced us to him; and besides, though he is obscure himself, he might recommend us to other artists if the work was well done."

"oh, bother! come over here, lucy. do you see that lighted window opposite? it is conny's mr. jermyn's."

"what an interesting fact!"

"conny said he danced well. i wish he would come and dance with us sometimes. it is ages and ages since i had a really good waltz."

"phyllis! do you forget that you are in mourning?" cried fanny, shocked, as she moved towards the table, where lucy had lit the lamp.

gertrude came through the folding-doors bearing a covered dish. her aspect also was undeniably dejected. business had been slacker, if possible, than usual, during[pg 69] the past week; regarded from no point of view could their prospects be considered brilliant; and, to crown all, aunt caroline had paid them a visit in the course of the day, in which she had propounded some very direct questions as to the state of their finances; questions which it had been both difficult to answer and difficult to evade.

phyllis ceased her chatter, which she saw at once to be out of harmony with the prevailing mood, and took her place in silence at the table.

at the same moment the studio-bell echoed with considerable violence throughout the house.

"what can any one want this time of night?" cried fan, in some agitation.

"they must have pulled the wrong bell," said lucy; "but one of us had better go down and see."

gertrude lighted a candle, and went downstairs, and the rest proceeded rather silently with their meal.

in about five minutes gertrude re-appeared with a grave face.

"well?"

they all questioned her, with lips and eyes.

[pg 70]

"some one has been here about work," she said, slowly; "but it's rather a dismal sort of job. it is to photograph a dead person."

"gerty, what do you mean?"

"oh, i believe it is quite usual. a lady—lady watergate—died to-day, and her husband wishes the body to be photographed to-morrow morning."

"it is very strange," said fanny, "that he should select ladies, young girls, for such a piece of work!"

"oh, it was a mere chance. it was the housekeeper who came, and we happened to be the first photographer's shop she passed. she seemed to think i might not like it, but we cannot afford to refuse work."

"but, gertrude," cried fan, "do you know what lady watergate died of? perhaps scarlet fever, or smallpox, or something of the sort."

"she died of consumption," said gertrude shortly, and put her arm round phyllis, who was listening with a curious look in her great, dilated eyes.

"i wonder," put in lucy, "if this poor lady can be the wife of the lord watergate?"

[pg 71]

"i rather fancy so; i know he lives in regent's park, and the address for to-morrow is sussex place."

a name so well known in the scientific and literary world was of course familiar to the lorimers. they had, however, little personal acquaintance with distinguished people, and had never come across the learned and courteous peer in his social capacity, his frequent presence in certain middle-class circles notwithstanding.

mrs. maryon, coming up later on for a chat, under pretext of discussing the unsatisfactory matilda, was informed of the new commission.

"ah," she said, shaking her head, "it was a sad story that of the watergates." so passionately fond of her as he had been, and then for her to treat him like that! but he took her back at the last and forgave her everything, like the great-hearted gentleman that he was. "and do you mean," she added, fixing her melancholy, humorous eyes on them, "that you young ladies are actually going by yourselves to the house to make a picture of the body?"

"i am going—no one else," answered[pg 72] gertrude calmly, passing over phyllis's avowed intention of accompanying her.

"she always has some dreadful tale about everybody you mention," cried lucy, indignantly, when mrs. maryon had gone. "she will never rest content until there is something dreadful to tell of us."

"yes, i'm sure she regards us as so many future additions to her chamber of horrors," said phyllis, reflectively, with a smile.

"and oh," added fan, "if she would only not compare us so constantly with that poor man who had the studio last year! it makes one positively creep."

"nonsense," said gertrude; "she is quite as fond of pleasant events as sad ones. weddings, for instance, she describes with as much unction as funerals."

"we will certainly do our best to add to her stock of tales in that respect," cried phyllis, with an odd burst of high spirits. "who votes for getting married? i do. so do you, don't you, fan? it must be such fun to have one's favourite man dropping in on one every evening."

* * * * *

at an early hour the next morning, gertrude lorimer started on her errand.[pg 73] she went alone; lucy of course must remain in the studio; phyllis was in bed with a headache, and fan was ministering to her numerous wants. as she passed out, laden with her apparatus, mdlle. stéphanie, the big, sallow frenchwoman who occupied the first floor, entered the house and grinned a vivacious "bon jour!"

"a fine, bright morning for your work, miss!" cried the chemist from his doorstep; while his wife stood at his side, smiling curiously.

gertrude went on her way with a considerable sinking of the heart. she had no difficulty in finding sussex place; indeed, she had often remarked it; the white curve of houses with the columns, the cupolas, and the railed-in space of garden which fronted the park.

lord watergate's house was situated about midway in the terrace. gertrude, on arriving, was shown into a large dining-room, darkened by blinds, and decorated in each gloomy corner by greenish figures of a pseudo-classical nature, which served the purpose of supports to the gas-globes.

at least a quarter of an hour elapsed before the appearance of the housekeeper,[pg 74] who ushered her up the darkened stairs to a large room on the second storey.

here the blinds had been raised, and for a moment gertrude was too dazzled to be aware with any clearness of her surroundings.

as her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she perceived herself to be standing in a daintily-furnished sleeping apartment, whose open windows afforded glimpses of an unbroken prospect of wood, and lawn, and water.

drawn forward to the middle of the room, well within the light from the windows, was a small, open bedstead of wrought brass. a woman lay, to all appearance, sleeping there, the bright october sunlight falling full on the upturned face, on the spread and shining masses of matchless golden hair. a woman no longer in her first youth; haggard with sickness, pale with the last strange pallor, but beautiful withal, exquisitely, astonishingly beautiful.

another figure, that of a man, was seated by the window, in a pose as fixed, as motionless, as that of the dead woman herself.

gertrude, as she silently made preparations for her strange task, instinctively[pg 75] refrained from glancing in the direction of this second figure; and had only the vaguest impression of a dark, bowed head, and a bearded, averted face.

she delivered a few necessary directions to the housekeeper, in the lowest audible voice, then, her faculties stimulated to curious accuracy, set to work with camera and slides.

as she stood, her apparatus gathered up, on the point of departure, the man by the window rose suddenly, and for the first time seemed aware of her presence.

for one brief, but vivid moment, her eyes encountered the glance of two miserable grey eyes, looking out with a sort of dazed wonder from a pale and sunken face. the broad forehead, projecting over the eyes; the fine, but rough-hewn features; the brown hair and beard; the tall, stooping, sinewy figure: these together formed a picture which imprinted itself as by a flash on gertrude's overwrought consciousness, and was destined not to fade for many days to come.

* * * * *

"they are some of the best work you have ever done, gerty," cried phyllis,[pg 76] peering over her sister's shoulder. the habits of this young person, as we know, resembled those of the lilies of the field; but she chose to pervade the studio when nothing better offered itself, and in moments of boredom even to occupy herself with some of the more pleasant work.

gertrude looked thoughtfully at the prints in her hand. they represented a woman lying dead or asleep, with her hair spread out on the pillow.

"yes," she said, slowly, "they have succeeded better than i expected. of course the light was not all that could be wished."

"poor thing," said phyllis; "what perfect features she has. mrs. maryon told us she was wicked, didn't she? but i don't know that it matters about being good when you are as beautiful as all that."