one, she had such a look of calm, of rest.  I’ve found her asleep with one crushed up in her hand.  I’m sure she used to put them under her pillow at night, just as—­well—­just as I used to put yours, Teddy, under mine.  Don’t you know, that when two women are in love, they know it one from another, without a word.  Of course, Mother knew all about how I felt, I used to catch her looking at me, oh, so wistfully—­but she never dreamed that wise little daughter had guessed her secret—­oh, no—­mothers never realize that their little chick-children have grown to be big geese.  But, I know, and, well, Teddy, as you know, if he doesn’t ask her pretty soon, I’ll go and ask him myself—­and he never refuses me anything.  I shall say, ’Dear old Marcus, Teddy and I wish you’d hurry up and ask Mother to marry you.  We have set our hearts on picking out our own “steps.”  We think of being married in June, and we want it all settled.’  There,” she said with a radiant blush, “I’ve answered all your questions—­have you another problem?”

* * * * *

XIX

Left alone before the empty space reserved for the masterpiece the expression on Gard’s face changed.  Grave and purposeful, he continued to regard the blank wall, then, turning, he caught up the desk telephone, gave Mrs. Marteen’s private number and waited.

A moment later the sweet familiar voice thrilled him.

“It’s I—­Marcus,” he said.  “I am coming for you this morning.  Yes, I’m taking a holiday, and I’m going to bring you back to the library to see a new acquisition of mine—­that will interest you.  Then you and Dorothy will lunch with Polly.  Dorothy can join us at one o’clock.  This is a private view—­for you alone....  You will?  That’s good!  Good-by.”

Noises in the resonant hall and the opening of the great doors announced the arrival of the moving van and its precious contents, before Saunders, his eyes bulging with excitement, rushed in with the tidings of the coming of the world famous Heim Vandyke.  With respectful care the great canvas was brought in, unwrapped and lifted to its chosen hanging place.

Seated in his armchair, Gard with mixed emotions watched it elevated and straightened.  The pictured face smiled down at him—­impersonal yet human, glowing, vivid with color, alive with that suggestion of eternal life that art alone in its highest expression can give.  Card’s smile was enigmatical; his eyes were sad.  His imagination pictured to him Mrs. Marteen as she had sat before him in her self-contained stateliness and announced with indifferent calm that the Vandyke had been but a ruse to gain his private ear.

Gard rose, approached the picture, and for an instant laid his fingers upon its darkened frame.  The movement was that of a worshiper who makes his vow at the touch of some relic infinitely holy.