the rather droll image of her faring forth across the sea quite
consciously and resignedly to perform it.

The point of the communication had however been that my sitter was again
looking up and would doubtless, on the arrival and due initiation of Mrs.
Brash, be in form really to wait on me. The situation must further, to
my knowledge, have developed happily, for I arranged with Mrs. Munden
that our friend, now all ready to begin, but wanting first just to see
the things I had most recently done, should come once more, as a final
preliminary, to my studio. A good foreign friend of mine, a French
painter, Paul Outreau, was at the moment in London, and I had proposed,
as he was much interested in types, to get together for his amusement a
small afternoon party. Every one came, my big room was full, there was
music and a modest spread; and I've not forgotten the light of admiration
in Outreau's expressive face as at the end of half an hour he came up to
me in his enthusiasm. "_Bonte divine, mon cher--que cette vieille est
donc belle_!"

I had tried to collect all the beauty I could, and also all the youth, so
that for a moment I was at a loss. I had talked to many people and
provided for the music, and there were figures in the crowd that were
still lost to me. "What old woman do you mean?"

"I don't know her name--she was over by the door a moment ago. I asked
somebody and was told, I think, that she's American."

I looked about and saw one of my guests attach a pair of fine eyes to
Outreau very much as if she knew he must be talking of her. "Oh Lady
Beldonald! Yes, she's handsome; but the great point about her is that
she has been 'put up' to keep, and that she wouldn't be flattered if she