The Pagans | Page 9

seemed intrusive, though of course it was not meant to be."
"It did not seem so; but I am out of sorts this afternoon. I have sent my model away because I am too much unstrung to work."
"I hope nothing bad has happened," said Helen, quickly.
"No, nothing; it's only this message from dear old Hoffmeir."
He walked away and pulled aside the curtain which screened the lower half of the window overlooking the water, and stood gazing out at a vessel lying beside the wharf beneath. Mrs. Greyson laid down her modeling tools, disturbed by the other's disquiet, and wondering how best to distract his attention from himself. Her glance roved inquiringly about the little room, noting every cast upon the dingy walls, bits of sculptured foliage, architectural forms, and portions of the human figure. Then her gaze rested an instant upon her own work, and from that turned toward the robust form by the window.
"Come, Mr. Herman," she said at length, in a tone half jesting, "I never saw you so somber."
"It is not that Hoffmeir is dead, poor fellow!" Herman replied, answering her unspoken question. "I'd made up my mind to endure that, and any man with his over-sensitive temperament is better off on the other side of the grass than this any day. I may as well tell you, Mrs. Greyson, though as a rule I do not find much comfort in blurting out things. The fact is that Hoffmeir and I quarreled over a girl. We were both in love with her, like two young fools as we were; but she'd promised to marry me, and--it was a deal better that she didn't, too. I thought he tried to take her from me. Now I know I was wrong, and that Fritz was as high-souled as a god in the matter; but then I sent him back his ring, and broke off with him and her too. I was a fiery young fool in those days," he added, with a sad and bitter smile, "a young fool."
"And was it never explained?"
"Never until to-day. He was far too proud a man to call me back."
"But the girl?" queried Helen, with increasing eagerness. "What did she do?"
"Oh, the girl," he repeated, turning away again and directing his gaze out of the window; "what would you expect her to do? She was only a peasant; and though I was honest enough then, I outgrew that fever centuries ago."
"Yes, you did," returned Helen, with gentle persistence, "but what did she do?"
"What do women usually do when they break with one lover? Get another, I suppose!"
The words were so hard and coarse to come from a man like Grant Herman that she involuntarily looked up quickly at him, and perhaps he noticed the action.
It was evident that some deep pain had provoked the expression, yet had found no relief in the rough words. The sculptor turned toward his companion as if to speak. Then slowly his eyes fell, and he said firmly, if a little stiffly:
"I believe I do her injustice. If she ever loved a man she was one who would love him always."
He left the little room without more words, his firm, even tread sounding down the uncarpeted stairs until the door of his own studio was heard to close after him. Mrs. Greyson stood before her clay wondering, and then, sinking into a chair, sat so long absorbed in thought that the short daylight faded about her and she was forced to give up further work that day. Replacing the wet cloth with which her bas-relief had been covered, she prepared to return home. As she passed the door of Herman's studio the sculptor opened it.
"I do not know," he said, extending his hand, "what made me so rude this afternoon. I am a bear of a fellow, but I had meant to treat you well."
He had fully recovered his composure, but his evident desire to efface the impression he had made naturally rendered it more lasting in Helen's mind.

VI.
A BOND OF AIR. Troilus and Cressida; i.--3.
Had Helen been present at the scene which took place in Herman's studio earlier in the afternoon, she would perhaps have wondered less at his disturbance.
In response to the sculptor's request made at the Club when Ninitta's name was first mentioned, Bently, when the girl finished posing for him, sent her to the sculptor's studio.
She came a day or two later than Bently had directed her, not hastening, although for six years she had shaped her entire life to the end of meeting Grant Herman. She came into the studio as calmly and as quietly as if it were some familiar place which she had left but yesterday, and she greeted the sculptor with as even and musical tone as in the old Roman