Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. Having no more patience, I drew you aside to give you a compliment on your radiant beauty. He gently took the roses from her and laid them on the pillow. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. I married—I married a woman whom I still think one of the most beautiful persons in the world. You say that this gentleman was with you?” “I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially.
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