MY LADY OB' THE NIELD OF BLOOD
golden shower about her shoulders, and gazed long and earnestly
at her reflection.
" Beauty," she whispered. And every line of the picture
echoed her words. " Innocence and truth." And the deep,
frank eyes repeated the thought. " Grace." And every motion
threw back the utterance. " You have them all, and yet you are
incomplete," she cried suddenly, and raised her hand to strike
the image before her. But in midair the hand paused, and the
heavy lashes drooped over the sea-deep eyes. A ruddy color
mounted to cheek and brow, and turning, she threw herself upon
her couch, murmuring:
" Incomplete ? Ah no, Carl. At last I know what you have
missed,—but I—l cannot tell you. You must find it for your-
self."
The next morning Lola noticed dark rings about Carl's eyes,
betokening a sleepless night. And her pity for him grew hourly.
But as for her, she would not meet his gaze. Several times during
their breakfast she caught him watching her with a puzzled ex
pression on his face, and each time she had dropped her eyes
quickly to her plate lest he should read in them the secret her lips
were unwilling to utter. The morning meal finished, Carl led
the way up to the east wing. Lola followed with a wildly beat
ing heart.
Once inside the studio, Carl turned the easel so that the por
trait might catch the full east light, and then threw back the dust
curtain. Lola gazed at the canvas in rapture.
"It is not like me," she said, finally.' "It is too beautiful."
" As though that were possible," he replied, looking full at her.
Again the dark lashes veiled the tell-tale glance of the blue eyes.
" Could you do no better ?" she said. " Let me sit just once
again, and then see whether you have made a true likeness."
She took her place on the little dais he had built, and assumed
her pose. Carl glanced first at the picture, then at his model.
As he did so, his lips parted in a cry of glad surprise.
I
"It is there," he said; " the something have missed. How
strange I never caught it before " And he hurried to get his
brushes and palette, while Lola sat idly watching him, her heart
throbbing with a gladness she had never known till then.
And when, without looking up from his work, he told her she
might go, she stole away to her room and vainly strove to quell