she had a sudden sense of disgust at being reminded how plain-looking
they were, like their father.

The obtuse and single-minded landscape-painter never once perceived from
her conversation that it was only Trewe she wanted, and not himself. He
made the best of his visit, seeming to enjoy the society of Ella's
husband, who also took a great fancy to him, and showed him everywhere
about the neighbourhood, neither of them noticing Ella's mood.

The painter had been gone only a day or two when, while sitting upstairs
alone one morning, she glanced over the London paper just arrived, and
read the following paragraph:-

'SUICIDE OF A POET

'Mr. Robert Trewe, who has been favourably known for some years as one
of our rising lyrists, committed suicide at his lodgings at Solentsea
on Saturday evening last by shooting himself in the right temple with
a revolver. Readers hardly need to be reminded that Mr. Trewe has
recently attracted the attention of a much wider public than had
hitherto known him, by his new volume of verse, mostly of an
impassioned kind, entitled "Lyrics to a Woman Unknown," which has been
already favourably noticed in these pages for the extraordinary gamut
of feeling it traverses, and which has been made the subject of a
severe, if not ferocious, criticism in the --- Review. It is
supposed, though not certainly known, that the article may have
partially conduced to the sad act, as a copy of the review in question
was found on his writing-table; and he has been observed to be in a
somewhat depressed state of mind since the critique appeared.'