He walked to the opposite door of the library--opened it--glanced round the hall, and at the stairs--and returned again, with the passing expression of annoyance visible once more. "Come with me to the gallery, gentlemen," he said; "I shall be happy to introduce you to Mr. Romayne."
Penrose accepted the proposal. Father Benwell pointed with a smile to the books scattered about him. "With permission, I will follow your lordship," he said.
"Who was my lord looking for?" That was the question in Father Benwell's mind, while he put some of the books away on the shelves, and collected the scattered papers on the table, relating to his correspondence with Rome. It had become a habit of his life to be suspicious of any circumstances occurring within his range of observation, for which he was unable to account. He might have felt some stronger emotion on this occasion, if he had known that the conspiracy in the library to convert Romayne was matched by the conspiracy in the picture gallery to marry him.
Lady Loring's narrative of the conversation which had taken place between Stella and herself had encouraged her husband to try his proposed experiment without delay. "I shall send a letter at once to Romayne's hotel," he said.
"Inviting him to come here to-day?" her ladyship inquired.
"Yes. I shall say I particularly wish to consult him about a picture. Are we to prepare Stella to see him? or would it be better to let the meeting take her by surprise?"
"Certainly not!" said Lady Loring. "With her sensitive disposition, I am afraid of taking Stella by surprise. Let me only tell her that Romayne is the original of her portrait, and that he is likely to call on you to see the picture to-day--and leave the rest to me."
Lady Loring's suggestion was immediately carried out. In the first fervor of her agitation, Stella had declared that her courage was not equal to a meeting with Romayne on that day. Becoming more composed, she yielded to Lady Loring's persuasion so far as to promise that she would at least make the attempt to follow her friend to the gallery. "If I go down with you," she said, "it will look as if we had arranged the thing between us. I can't bear even to think of that. Let me look in by myself, as if it was by accident." Consenting to this arrangement, Lady Loring had proceeded alone to the gallery, when Romayne's visit was announced. The minutes passed, and Stella did not appear. It was quite possible that she might shrink from openly presenting herself at the main entrance to the gallery, and might prefer--especially if she was not aware of the priest's presence in the room--to slip in quietly by the library door. Failing to find her, on putting this idea to the test, Lord Loring had discovered Penrose, and had so hastened the introduction of the younger of the two Jesuits to Romayne.
Having gathered his papers together, Father Benwell crossed the library to the deep bow-window which lighted the room, and opened his dispatch-box, standing on a small table in the recess. Placed in this position, he was invisible to any person entering the room by the hall door. He had secured his papers in the dispatch-box, and had just closed and locked it, when he heard the door cautiously opened.
The instant afterward the rustling of a woman's dress over the carpet caught his ear. Other men might have walked out of the recess and shown themselves. Father Benwell stayed where he was, and waited until the lady crossed his range of view.
The priest observed with cold attention her darkly-beautiful eyes and hair, her quickly-changing color, her modest grace of movement. Slowly, and in evident agitation, she advanced to the door of the picture gallery--and paused, as if she was afraid to open it. Father Benwell heard her sigh to herself softly, "Oh, how shall I meet him?" She turned aside to the looking-glass over the fire-place. The reflection of her charming face seemed to rouse her courage. She retraced her steps, and timidly opened the door. Lord Loring must have been close by at the moment. His voice immediately made itself heard in the library.
"Come in, Stella--come in! Here is a new picture for you to see; and a friend whom I want to present to you, who must be your friend too--Mr. Lewis Romayne."
The door was closed again. Father Benwell stood still as a statue in the recess, with his head down, deep in thought. After a while he roused himself, and rapidly returned to the writing table. With a roughness strangely unlike his customary deliberation of movement, he snatched a sheet of paper out of the case, and frowning heavily, wrote these lines on it:-- "Since my letter was sealed, I have made a discovery which must be communicated without the loss of a post. I greatly fear there may be a woman in our way. Trust me to combat this obstacle as I have combated other obstacles. In the meantime, the work goes on. Penrose has received his first instructions, and has to-day been presented to Romayne."
He addressed this letter to Rome, as he had addressed the letter preceding it. "Now for the woman!" he said to himself--and opened the door of the picture gallery.
CHAPTER IV.
FATHER BENWELL HITS.
ART has its trials as well as its triumphs. It is powerless to assert itself against the sordid interests of everyday life. The greatest book ever written, the finest picture ever painted, appeals in vain to minds preoccupied by selfish and secret cares. On entering Lord Loring's gallery, Father Benwell found but one person who was not looking at the pictures under false pretenses.
Innocent of all suspicion of the conflicting interests whose struggle now centered in himself, Romayne was carefully studying the picture which had been made the pretext for inviting him to the house. He had bowed to Stella, with a tranquil admiration of her beauty; he had shaken hands with Penrose, and had said some kind words to his future secretary--and then he had turned to the picture, as if Stella and Penrose had ceased from that moment to occupy his mind.
"In your place," he said quietly to Lord Loring, "I should not buy this work."
"Why not?"
"It seems to me to have the serious defect of the modern English school of painting. A total want of thought in the rendering of the subject, disguised under dexterous technical tricks of the brush. When you have seen one of that man's pictures, you have seen all. He manufactures--he doesn't paint."
Father Benwell came in while Romayne was speaking. He went through the ceremonies of introduction to the master of Vange Abbey with perfect politeness, but a little absently. His mind was bent on putting his suspicion of Stella to the test of confirmation. Not waiting to be presented, he turned to her with the air of fatherly interest and chastened admiration which he well knew how to assume in his intercourse with women.
"May I ask if you agree with Mr. Romayne's estimate of the picture?" he said, in his gentlest tones.
She had heard of him, and of his position in the house.