THE COUKJER
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X
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not infect her. Sho was grave and thoughtful.
"Am I like that?" she asked.
Dick glancod from the living face at his elbow to the pictured face
above him. The likeness was exact. He had portrayed Patricia's
impassivo beauty with rare and subtle skill. The waving glory of
the bright-hued hair, the straight lines of the finely chiseled feat
ures, the puro tints of the velvety skin, the serene unconsciousness
of the clear gray eyes these things were rendered with a iifeliko
fidelity that was startling in its vivid realism. But beyond and above
all things, he had seized upon and emphasized that which was the
key-note of her personality the marble coldness, the lack of woman
ly softness and tenderness, the absence of soul, that made her face
so perfect a realization of his ideal Galatea.
"You are just like that," he answered with conviction.
Patricia was silent for a moment, then.
"I did not know," she said slowly, and the tone made Dick wonder
of what she could be thinking.
But he did not ask. Ho had found out long ago that asking
Patricia questions was rather an unsatisfactory occupation.
"Pygmalion of old fell in love with his own creation, and kissed it
into life," he cried. "I am sure I am not surprised, if if "
He broke off suddenly, and Patricia turned away. Dick's eyes
followed her curiously. He was wondering if the most impetuous of
lovers, the most ardent of kisses, could have power to awake within
her the passionate loving woman's soul that the touch of Pygma
lion's lips had once upon awakened within his Galatea's marble
form.
The pictures was accepted by the all-powarful Forty, and well hung
and it proved the feature of that year's academy. The critics had
nothing but praise for it, and the crowds of visitors who daily
thronged the rooms of Burlington House were unanimous in their
verdict. Popular feeling ran so high that "Galatea" had to be pro
vided with a railing and a policeman. Dick Vandeleur's name was
made.
"I owe everything to you," he said to Patricia, "everything."
Now, this was not strictly true, and the impulsive words were the
outcome of a somewhat illogical reasoning, but Dick was not always
logical when ho was talking to a woman. That is such a different
matter from talking to a man.
Patricia caught the false note at once, and shook her head.
"No." she answered, "there are many things that you don't owe
tu me. Your talent, for instance that is a Heaven-snnt gift If
you had never seen me, you would still have been famous somo
day."
"I should not," Dick returned, with conviction. "You inspired
me. What is talent without inspiration." Then ho moved a little
nearer "Don't reason with me," he pleaded; "I don't want to be
reasoned with. I like to think I owe everything to you. Let me
think it, Patricia."
Patricia did not answer; she only flushed faintly. Considered
from an artistic point of view, that soft, slow blush was the most
pjrfect thing in tho world, and Dick's eyes were all ablaza as ho
looked down at her.
"I owe you," he went on, "a debt that I can never pay off in this
life; the balance will have to be carried over to the next, I'm afraid."
He paused for a moment; then put his hand over hers, as it lay idly
on the table. "It is not only name and fame and fortune," he add
ed. "There is something else that I owe to you something more
precious than either."
"May I,,' he asked, in a hurried tone, "come in this evening and
tell you what it is?"
Her eyes were still fixed on the clasped hands, hers and his.
"Yes," she answered.
Then she withdrew her hand slowly, and as she did so Dick stoDp
ed down and kissed her.
The next moment he was gone.
-Patricia stood where he had left her, silent and motionless. Her
pulses were throbbing wildly and the blood was coursing through
her veins in a torrent of liquid fire; still outwardly she was unchang
ed. Then all at once a light broke over her face a light that suf
fused and irradiated it with a rosy glow, a new strange beauty. She
was transfigureJ. Her lips parted, her cheeks Hushed, her eyes
softened with passion and tenderness unspeakable. Tn that one
moment she had passed from the marble semblence of a woman to
a woman indeed, with a woman's heart beating in her breast, and
the dawn of a woman's love stiring her. being to its utmost depths.
It was tho soul's awakoning.
The light Btill lingered upon hor face when Dick canto back, no
saw it as she turned to meot him, and this now marvelous beauty of
hers, this glowing pulsating womanhood, instinct with passionate
life, canto upon him with an actual physical Bhock. Ho stopped
short, gazing at hor spellbound.
"By Jovo!" he muttered, under his breath. "By Jove!" Then ho
went forward. "How different you look tonight," he said. "What
is it."
His oyo3 wandorod over her as ho spake, seeking some reason for
the change, but ho could find none. Her gown was one that ho
knew well; she had not altered the arrangement of her hair; every
thing about her was much as usual. No; the change owed nothing
to outward iniluence; it camo from within her.
Even as Dick grasped this fact an idea struck him maidenly;
could it be his kiss the touch of bis lips on hers that had wrought
this startling transformation. For a moment the thought made him
cower guiltily, then ho (lit missed it its quickly aa it had come. No,
it could not be that that was not enough.
For Dick was a man, and a man of tho world no worse, but still
not much better, than his fellow-men and he did not think so very
much of a kiss. If he felt tempted to kiss a woman ho generally
yielded to the temptation, just as he yielded to other temptations,
in his light-hearted, irresponsible way. A kiss was such a little
thing he always reflected when, as sometimes happened, his con
science pricked him. What did it amount to, after all? Just tho
touch of lips on other lips. Nothing more.
"Patricia," ho said taking her hand in his.
He had taken her hand and called hor by her name in this after
noon, and she had not rebuked him, so ho took her hand and called
her by her name again at night. This id a man's way.
Patricia looked up at him.
"Yes," she said.
Dick drew his breath hard, and for a moment ho could not speak.
Her eyes, with that new light glowing in their depths were enough
to set a man's very soul on fire. Ho had to tight for self control.
"I havo a confession to mako to you," he went on, rather unstead
ily. "When you hear it perhaps you will say I ought to have mado
it before. And yet I don't know why you should. It is a secret that is
only known to two people in tho world besides myself. Possibly it
won't interest you; but I think it will, because becauo wo have
been such good friends. I am man Wl. That is it. I married five
years ago. I was only a lny then, with neither money nor prospects;
and God knows I had no right to persuade any woman to Join her
life to mine. But but ,we don't always do what is right and she
has never reproached me, never once. Until now I have had no
chance of making a home for her. She has stayed with her mother
and I havo lived from hand to mouth, painting pot-boilers and trust
ing to luck, making the most of the present and leaving tho future
to take care of itself. But now all that is changed. I can mako a
home for her now, and give her ail the things that sho has waited
for so long and so patiently and I ant going to do it I am going to
do it. She's a good little thing, the best, truest little women in the
world. And sho never reproached me once." Ho paused for a
moment and passed his hand over his eyes. "There's a child, too,"
he added, in a lower tone.
He looked at Patracia with a quick and somewhat uneasy glance,
but she stood quite still and silent. She did not even withdraw her
hand.
'You see now how much I owe to you," he went on, hurriedly.
"Not only name and fame and fortune, but also the power to atone
to my wife for all these years of waiting; the iower to mako a home
for her and the child. I can never hopo to pay off such a debt."
Patricia raised her eyes to his and smiled.
"There is no debt," she said; "it is paiil already. If I have added
to your happiness; that is enough for me. I was not used to help
ing people, no one ever asked me for help until you came; but I have
helped you and I am satisfied."
Dick started as her voice fell on his ear. It was so changed.that
he hardly knew it. The new tenderness that had thrilled in" the
soft tones was gone, leaving it dull and cold and lifeless, as it had
been when first he met her. He looked at her curiously and saw
that her face was changing, too. The light tat still lingered upon
it was but the ghost of what had been the faint reflection of that
marvelous glow of warmth and passion that had Hashed upon him
with such bewildering beauty only a short time ago. A shadow
dimmed the lovely radiance of her eyes, her mouth was set in rigid,
flexible lines, tbe marble coldness ami hardness of the old days were
creeping over again.
He drew a Ions, deep breath, for in that moment tho truth was
revealed to him, and tho vag'ie uneiwy doubts that had filled his
mind gave place to certain knowledge. Ife knew now. that he. like
Pygmalion of old, had kissed his Galatea into life, and awakened a
woman's heart within her marble breast. Knew, too, that almost in
the same hour as that in which he had gh-en her life ho had taken
the precious gift away.
As she stood there, looking up at him. the smile seemed to freeze
on her lips, and all at once the light faded and died out of her face
forever.
The soul was dead, and a soul knows no second birth on this side
of eternity.
