the grand epoch of the artistic year had arrived; the tremendous fehmgericht--appointed to decide on the merits of some hundreds of struggling men, to stamp their efforts with approval or to blight them with rejection--had issued their sentence. the hanging-committee had gone through their labours and eaten their dinners; every inch of space on the walls in trafalgar square was duly covered; the successful men had received intimation of the "varnishing day," and to the rejected had been despatched a comforting missive, stating that the amount of space at the command of the academy was so small, that, sooner than place their works in an objectionable position, the council had determined to ask for their withdrawal. out of this ordeal geoffrey ludlow had come splendidly. there had always been a notion that he would "do something;" but he had delayed so long--near the mark, but never reaching it--that the original belief in his talents had nearly faded out. now, when realisation came, it came with tenfold force. the old boys--men of accepted name and fame--rejoiced with extra delight in his success because it was one in their own line, and without any giving in to the doctrines of the new school, which they hated with all their hearts. they liked the "sic vos non vobis" best (for geoffrey had sternly held to his title, and refused all mr. stompff's entreaties to give it a more popular character); they looked upon it as a more thoroughly legitimate piece of work. they allowed the excellences of the "scylla and charybdis," and, indeed, some of them were honest enough to prefer it, as a bit of real excellence in painting; but others objected to the pre-raphaelite tendency to exalt the white face and the dead-gold hair into a realisation of beauty. but all were agreed that geoffrey ludlow had taken the grand step which was always anticipated from him, and that he was, out and away, the most promising man of the day: so geoff was hung on the line, and received letters from half-a-dozen great names congratulating him on his success, and was in the seventh heaven of happiness, principally from the fact that in all this he saw a prospect of excellent revenue, of the acquisition of money and honour to be shared with a person then resident in mr. flexor's lodgings, soon to be mistress of his own home.

the kind fates had also been propitious to mr. charles potts, whose picture of "gil blas and the archbishop" had been well placed in the north room. mr. tidd's "boadicea in her chariot," ten feet by six, had been rejected; but his portrait of w. bagglehole, esq., vestry-clerk of st. wabash, little britain, looked down from the ceiling of the large room and terrified the beholders.

so at length arrived that grand day of the year to the academicians, when they bid certain privileged persons to the private view of the pictures previous to their public exhibition. the _profanum vulgus_, who are odi'd and arceo'd, pine in vain hope of obtaining a ticket for this great occasion. the public press, the members of the legislature carefully sifted, a set of old dowagers who never bought a sketch, and who scarcely know a picture from a pipkin, and a few distinguished artists,--these are the happy persons who are invited to enter the sacred precincts on this eventful day. geoffrey ludlow never had been inside the walls on such an occasion--never expected to be; but on the evening before, as he was sitting in his studio smoking a pipe and thinking that within twenty-four hours he would have margaret's final decision, looking back over his short acquaintance with her in wonder, looking forward to his future life with her in hope, when a mail-phaeton dashed up to the door, and in the strident tones, "catch hold, young 'un," shouted to the groom, geoff recognised the voice of mr. stompff, and looking out saw that great capitalist descending from the vehicle.

"hallo, ludlow!" said mr. stompff, entering the studio; "how are you? quiet pipe after the day's grind? that's your sort! what will i take, you were going to say? well, i think a little drop of sherry, if you've got it pale and dry,--as, being a man of taste, of course you have. well, those duffers at the academy have hung you well, you see! of course they have. you know how that's done, of course?"

"i had hoped that the--" geoff began to stutter directly it became a personal question with him--"that the--i was going to say that the pictures were good enough to--"

"pictures good enough!--all stuff! pickles! the pictures are good--no use in denying that, and it would be deuced stupid in me, whove bought 'em! but that's not why they're so well hung. my men all on the hanging-committee--_twiggez-vous?_ last year there were two of caniche's men, and a horrible fellow who paints religious dodges, which no one buys: not one of my men on the line, and half of them turned out i determined to set that right this year, and ive done it. just you look where caniche's men are to-morrow, that's all!"

"to-morrow?"

"o, ah! that's what brought me here; i forgot to tell you. here's a ticket for the private view. i think you ought to be there,--show yourself, you know, and that kind of thing. and look here: if you see me pointing you out to people, don't you be offended. ive lived longer in the world than you, and i know what's what. besides, you're part of my establishment just now, and i know the way to work the oracle. so don't mind it, that's all. very decent glass of sherry, ludlow! i say--excuse me, but if you _could_ wear a white waistcoat to-morrow, i think i should like it. english gentleman, you know, and all that! some of caniche's fellows are very seedy-looking duffers."

geoff smiled, took the ticket, and promised to come, terribly uncomfortable at the prospect of notoriety which mr. stompff had opened for him. but that worthy had not done with him yet.

"after it's all over," said he, "you must come and dine with me at blackwall. regular business of mine, sir. i take down my men and two or three of the newspaper chaps, after the private view, and give 'em as good a dinner as money can buy. no stint! i say to lovegrove, 'you know me! the best, and damn the expense!' and lovegrove does it, and it's all right! it would be difficult for a fellow to pitch into any of my men with a recollection of my moselle about him, and a hope that it'll come again next year, eh? well--won't detain you now; see you to-morrow; and don't forget the dinner."

do you not know this kind of man, and does he not permeate english society?--this coarse ruffian, whose apparent good-nature disarms your nascent wrath, and yet whose good-nature you know to be merely vulgar ostentatious self-assertion under the guise of _bonhomie_. i take the character i have drawn, but i declare he belongs to all classes. i have seen him as publisher to author, as attorney to young barrister, as patron to struggler generally. geoffrey ludlow shrank before him, but shrank in his old feeble hesitating way; he had not the pluck to shake off the yoke, and bid his employer go to the devil. it was a new phase of life for him--a phase which promised competence at a time when competence was required; which, moreover, rid him of any doubt or anxiety about the destination of his labour, which to a man of ludlow's temperament was all in all. how many of us are there who will sell such wares as providence has given us the power of producing at a much less rate than we could otherwise obtain for them, and to most objectionable people, so long as we are enabled to look for and to get a certain price, and are absorbed from the ignominy of haggling, even though by that haggling we should be tenfold enriched! so geoffrey ludlow took mr. stompff's ticket, and gave him his pale sherry, and promised to dine with him, and bowed him out; and then went back into his studio and lit a fresh pipe and sat down to think calmly over all that was about to befall him.

what came into his mind first? his love, of course. there is no man, as yet unanchored in the calm haven of marriage, who amidst contending perplexities does not first think of what storms and shoals beset his progress in that course. and who, so long as there he can see a bit of blue sky, a tolerably clear passage, does not, to a great extent, ignore the black clouds which he sees banking up to windward, the heavy swell crested with a thin, dangerous, white line of wave, which threatens his fortunes in another direction. here geoffrey ludlow thought himself tolerably secure. margaret had told him all her story, had made the worst of it, and had left him to act on her confession. did she love him? that was a difficult question for a man of geoff's diffidence to judge. but he thought he might unhesitatingly answer it in the affirmative. it was her own proposition that nothing should be done hurriedly; that he should take the week to calmly reflect over the position, and see whether he held by his first avowal. and to-morrow the week would be at an end, and he would have the right to ask for her decision.

that decision, if favourable, would at once settle his plans, and necessitate an immediate communication to his mother. this was a phase of the subject which geoffrey characteristically had ignored, put by, and refrained from thinking of as long as possible. but now there was no help for it. under any circumstances he would have endeavoured, on marrying, to set up a separate establishment for himself; but situated as he was, with margaret dacre as his intended wife, he saw that such a step was inevitable. for though he loved his mother with all his heart, he was not blind to her weaknesses and he knew that the "cross" would never be more triumphantly brought forward, or more loudly complained of, than when it took the form of a daughter-in-law,--a daughter-in-law, moreover, whose antecedents were not held up for the old lady's scrutinising inspection. and here, perhaps, was the greatest tribute to the weird influence of the dead-gold hair, the pallid face, and the deep-violet eyes. a year ago, and geoff ludlow would have told you that nothing could ever have made him alter his then style of life. it had continued too long, he would have told you; he had settled down into a certain state of routine, living with the old lady and til: they understood his ways and wishes, and he thought he should never change. and mrs. ludlow used to say that geoffrey would never marry now; he did not care for young chits of girls, who were all giggle and nonsense, my dear; a man at his time of life looked for something more than that, and where it was to come from she, for one, did not know. miss matilda had indeed different views on the subject; she thought that dear old geoff would marry, but that it would probably come about in this way. some lovely female member of the aristocracy, to whom geoff had given drawing-lessons, or who had seen his pictures, and become imbued with the spirit of poetry in them, would say to her father, the haughty earl, "i pine for him; i cannot live without him;" and to save his darling child's health, the earl would give his consent, and bestow upon the happy couple estates of the annual value of twenty thousand pounds. but then you see miss matilda ludlow was given to novel-reading, and though perfectly practical and unromantic as regards herself and her career, was apt to look upon all appertaining to her brother, whom she adored, through a surrounding halo of circulating-library.

how this great intelligence would, then, be received by his home-tenants set geoff thinking after stompff's departure, and between the puff of his pipe he turned the subject hither and thither in his mind, and proposed to himself all kinds of ways for meeting the difficulty; none of which, on reconsideration, appearing practicable or judicious, he reverted to an old and favourite plan of his, that of postponing any further deliberation until the next day, when, as he argued with himself; he would have "slept upon it"--a most valuable result when the subject is systematically ignored up to the time of going to sleep, and after the hour of waking--he would have been to the private view at the academy--which had, of course, an immense deal to do with it--and he would have received the final decision from margaret dacre. o yes, it was useless to think any more of it that night. and fully persuaded of this, geoff turned in and fell fast asleep.

"and there won't be a more gentlemanly-looking man in the rooms than our dear old geoff!"

"stuff, til! don't be absurd!"

"no, i mean it; and you know it too, you vain old thing; else why are you perpetually looking in the glass?"

"no, but--til, nonsense!--i suppose i'm all right, eh?"

"all right!--you're charming, geoff! i never saw you such a--i can't help it you know--swell before! don't frown, geoff; there's no other word that expresses it. one would think you were going to meet a lady there. does the queen go, or any of the young princesses?"

"how can you be so ridiculous, til! now, goodbye;" and geoff gave his sister a hearty kiss, and started off. miss matilda was right; he did look perfectly gentlemanly in his dark-blue coat, white waistcoat, and small-check trousers. nature, which certainly had denied him personal beauty or regularity of feature, had given him two or three marks of distinction: his height, his bright earnest eyes, and a certain indefinable odd expression, different from the ordinary ruck of people--an expression which attracted attention, and invariably made people ask who he was.

it was three o'clock before geoff arrived at the academy, and the rooms were crowded. the scene was new to him, and he stared round in astonishment at the brilliancy of the _toilettes_, and what charley potts would have called the "air of swelldom" which pervaded the place. it is scarcely necessary to say that his first act was to glance at the catalogue to see where his pictures were placed; his second, to proceed to them to see how they looked on the walls. round each was a little host of eager inspectors, and from what geoff caught of their conversation, the verdict was entirely favourable. but he was not long left in doubt. as he was looking on, his arm was seized by mr. stompff, who, scarcely waiting to carry him out of earshot, began, "well! you've done it up brown this time, my man, and no flies! your pictures have woke 'em up. they're talking of nothing else. ive sold 'em both. lord everton--that's him over there: little man with a double eyeglass, brown coat and high velvet collar--he's bought the 'sic wos;' and mr. shirtings of manchester's got the other. the price has been good, sir; i'm not above denyin' it. there's six dozen of sham ready to go into your cellar whenever you say the word: i ain't mean with my men like some people. power of nobs here to-day. there's the prime minister, and the chancellor of the exchequer--that's him in the dirty white hat and rumpled coat--and no end of bishops and old ladies of title. that's shirtings, that fat man in the black satin waistcoat. wonderful man, sir,--factory-boy in manchester! saved his shillin' a-week, and is now worth two hundred thousand. fine modern collection he's got! that little man in the turn-down collar, with the gold pencil-case in his hand, is scrunch, the art-critic of the _scourge_. a bitter little beast; but ive squared him. i gave him five-and-twenty pounds to write a short account of the punic war, which was given away with bliff's picture of 'regulus,' and he's never pitched into any of my people since. he's comin' to dinner to-day. o, by the bye, don't be late! i'll drive you down."

"thank you," said geoff; "i--ive got somewhere to go to. i'll find my own way to blackwall."

"ha!" said stompff, "then it is true, is it? never mind; mum's the word! i'm tiled! look here: don't you mind me if you see me doing any thing particular. it's all good for business."

it may have been so, but it was undoubtedly trying. during the next two hours geoff was conscious of mr. stompff's perpetually hovering round him, always acting as cicerone to some different man, to whom he would point out geoff with his forefinger, then whisper in his companion's ear, indicate one of geoff's pictures with his elbow, and finish by promenading his friend just under geoff's nose; the stranger making a feeble pretence of looking at some highly-hung portrait, but obviously swallowing geoff with his eyes, from his hair to his boots.

but he had also far more pleasurable experiences of his success. three or four of the leading members of the academy, men of world-wide fame, whom he had known by sight, and envied--so far as envy lay in his gentle disposition--for years, came up to him, and introducing themselves, spoke warmly of his picture, and complimented him in most flattering terms. by one of these, the greatest of them all, lord everton was subsequently brought up; and the kind old man, with that courtesy which belongs only to the highest breeding, shook hands with him, and expressed his delight at being the fortunate possessor of mr. ludlow's admirable picture, and hoped to have the pleasure of receiving him at everton house, and showing him the gallery of old masters, in whose footsteps he, mr. ludlow, was so swiftly following.

and then, as geoffrey was bowing his acknowledgments, he heard his name pronounced, and turning round found himself close by lord caterham's wheelchair, and had a hearty greeting from its occupant.

"how do you do, mr. ludlow? you will recollect meeting me at lady lilford's, i daresay. i have just been looking at your pictures, and i congratulate you most earnestly upon them. no, i never flatter. they appear to me very remarkable things, especially the evening-party scene, where you seem to have given an actual spirit of motion to the dancers in the background, so different from the ordinary stiff and angular representation.--you can leave the chair here for a minute, stephens.--in such a crowd as this, mr. ludlow, it's refreshing--is it not?--to get a long look at that sheltered pool surrounded by waving trees, which creswick has painted so charmingly. the young lady who came with me has gone roving away to search for some favourite, whose name she saw in the catalogue; but if you don't mind waiting with me a minute, she will be back, and i know she will be glad to see you, as--ah! here she is!"

as geoffrey looked round, a tall young lady with brown eyes, a pert inquisitive nose, an undulating figure, and a bright laughing mouth, came hurriedly up, and without noticing geoffrey, bent over lord caterham's chair, and said, "i was quite right, arthur; it is--" then, in obedience to a glance from her companion, she looked up and exclaimed, "what, geoffrey!--mr. ludlow, i mean--o, how _do_ you do? why, you don't mean to say you don't recollect me?"

geoff was a bad courtier at any time, and now the expression of his face at the warmth of this salutation showed how utterly he was puzzled.

"you _have_ forgotten, then? and you don't recollect those days when--"

"stop!" he exclaimed, a sudden light breaking upon him; "little annie maurice that used to live at willesden priory! my little fairy, that i have sketched a thousand times. well, i ought not to have forgotten you, miss maurice, for i have studied your features often enough to have impressed them on my memory. but how could i recognise my little elf in such a dashing young lady?"

lord caterham looked up at them out of the corners of his eyes as they stood warmly shaking hands, and for a moment his face wore a pained expression; but it passed away directly, and his voice was as cheery as usual as he said, "_et nos mutamur in illis_, eh, mr. ludlow? little fays grow into dashing young ladies, and indolent young sketchers become the favourites of the academy."

"ay," said annie; "and the dear old priory let to other people, and many of those who made those times so pleasant are dead and gone. o, geoffrey--mr. ludlow, i mean--"

"yes," said geoff, interrupting her; "and geoffrey turned into mr. ludlow, and annie into miss maurice: there's another result of the flight of time, and one which i, for my part, heartily object to."

"ah, but, mr. ludlow, i must bespeak a proper amount of veneration for you on the part of this young lady," said lord caterham; "for i am about to ask you to do me a personal favour in which she is involved."

geoff bowed absently; he was already thinking it was time for him to go to margaret.

"miss maurice is good enough to stay with my family for the present, mr. ludlow; and i am very anxious that she should avail herself of the opportunity of cultivating a talent for drawing which she undoubtedly possesses."

"she used to sketch very nicely years ago," said geoff, turning to her with a smile; and her face was radiant with good humour as she said:

"o, geoffrey, do you recollect my attempts at cows?"

"so, in order to give her this chance, and in the hope of making her attempt at cows more creditable than it seems they used to be, i am going to ask you, mr. ludlow, to undertake miss maurice's artistic education, to give her as much of your time as you can spare, and, in fact, to give what i think i may call her genius the right inclination."

geoffrey hesitated of course--it was his normal state--and he said doubtingly: "you're very good; but i--i'm almost afraid--"

"you are not bashful, i trust, mr. ludlow," said lord caterham; "i have seen plenty of your work at lady lilford's, and i know you to be perfectly competent."

"it was scarcely that, my lord; i rather think that--" but when he got thus far he looked up and saw annie maurice's brown eyes lifted to his in such an appealing glance that he finished his sentence by saying: "well, i shall be very happy indeed to do all that i can--for old acquaintance-sake, annie;" and he held out his hand frankly to her.

"you are both very good," she said; "and it will be a real pleasure to me to recommence my lessons, and to try to prove to you, geoffrey, that i'm not so impatient or so stupid as i was. when shall we begin?"

"the sooner the better, don't you think, mr. ludlow?" said lord caterham.

geoff felt his face flush as he said: "i--i expect to be going out of town for a week or two; but when i return i shall be delighted to commence."

"when you return we shall be delighted to see you. i can fully understand how you long for a little rest and change after your hard work, mr. ludlow. now goodbye to you; i hope this is but the beginning of an intimate acquaintance." and lord caterham, nodding to geoffrey, called stephens and was wheeled away.

"i like that man, annie," said he, when they were out of earshot; "he has a thoroughly good face, and the truth and honesty of his eyes overbalance the weakness of the mouth, which is undecided, but not shifty. his manner is honest, too; don't you think so?"

he waited an instant for an answer, but annie did not speak.

"didn't you hear sue, annie? or am i not worth a reply?"

"i--i beg your pardon, arthur. i heard you perfectly; but i was thinking. o yes, i should think mr. ludlow was as honest as the day."

"but what made you _distraite?_ what were you thinking of?"

"i was thinking what a wonderful difference a few years made. i was thinking of my old ideas of mr. ludlow when he used to come out to dine with papa, and sleep at our house; how he had long dark hair, which he used to toss off his face, and poor papa used to laugh at him and call him an enthusiast. i saw hundreds of silver threads in his hair just now, and he seemed--well, i don't know--so much more constrained and conventional than i recollect him."

"you seem to forget that you had frocks and trousers and trundled a hoop in those days, annie. you were a little fay then; you are a venus now: in a few years you will be married, and then you must sit to mr. ludlow for a juno. it is only your pretty flowers that change so much; your hollies and yews keep pretty much the same throughout the year."

from the tone of voice in which lord caterham made this last remark, annie knew very well that he was in one of those bitter humours which, when his malady was considered, came surprisingly seldom upon him, and she knew that a reply would only have aggravated his temper, so she forbore and walked silently by his side.

no sooner did he find himself free than geoffrey ludlow hurried from the academy, and jumping into a cab, drove off at once to little flotsam street. never since margaret dacre had been denizened at flexor's had geoff approached the neighbourhood without a fluttering at his heart, a sinking of his spirits, a general notion of fright and something about to happen. but now, whether it was that his success at the academy and the kind words he had had from all his friends had given him courage, it is impossible to say, but he certainly jumped out of the hansom without the faintest feeling of disquietude, and walked hurriedly perhaps, but by no means nervously, up to flexor's door.

margaret was in, of course. he found her, the very perfection of neatness, watering some flowers in her window which he had sent her. she had on a tight-fitting cotton dress of a very small pattern, and her hair was neatly braided over her ears. he had seen her look more voluptuous, never more _piquante_ and irresistible. she came across the room to him with outstretched hand and raised eyebrows.

"you have come!" she said; "that's good of you, for i scarcely expected you."

geoff stopped suddenly. "scarcely expected me! yet you must know that to-day the week is ended."

"i knew that well enough; but i heard from the woman of the house here that to-day is the private view of the academy, and i knew how much you would be engaged."

"and did you think that i should suffer any thing to keep me from coming to you to-day?"

she paused a minute, then looked him full in the face. "no; frankly and honestly i did not. i was using conventionalisms and talking society to you. i never will do so again. i knew you would come, and--and i longed for your coming, to tell you my delight at what i hear is your glorious success."

"my greatest triumph is in your appreciation of it," said geoff. "having said to you what i did a week ago, you must know perfectly that the end and aim of all i think, of all i undertake, is connected with you. and you must not keep me in suspense, margaret, please. you must tell me your decision."

"my decision! now did we not part, at my suggestion, for a week's adjournment, during which you should turn over in your mind certain positions which i had placed before you? and now, the week ended, you ask for my decision! surely rather i ought to put the question."

"a week ago i said to you, 'margaret, be my wife.' it was not very romantically put, i confess; but i'm not a very romantic person. you told me to wait a week, to think over all the circumstances of our acquaintance, and to see whether my determination held good. the week is over; ive done all you said; and ive come again to say, margaret, be my wife."

it was rather a long speech this for geoff; and as he uttered it his dear old face glowed with honest fervour.

"you have thoroughly made up your mind, considered every thing, and decided?"

"i have."

"mind, in telling you the story of my past life, i spoke out freely, regardless of my own feelings and of yours. you owe me an equal candour. you have thought of all?"

"of all."

"and you still--"

"i still repeat that one demand."

"then i say 'yes,' frankly and freely. geoffrey ludlow, i will be your wife; and by heaven's help i will make your life happy, and atone for my past. i--"

and she did not say any more just then, for geoff stopped her lips with a kiss.

"what _can_ have become of ludlow?" said mr. stompff for about the twentieth time, as he came back into the dining-room, after craning over the balcony and looking all round.

"giving himself airs on account of his success," said genial mr. bowie, the art-critic. "i wouldn't wait any longer for him, stompff."

"i won't," said stompff. "dinner!"

the dinner was excellent, the wine good and plentiful, the guests well assorted, and the conversation as racy and salted as it usually is when a hecatomb of absent friends is duly slaughtered by the company. each man said the direst things he could about his own personal enemies; and there were but very few cases in which the rest of the _convives_ did not join in chorus. it was during a pause in this kind of conversation--much later in the evening, when the windows had been thrown open, and most of the men were smoking in the balcony--that little tommy smalt, who had done full justice to the claret, took his cigar from his mouth, leaned lazily back, and looking up at the moonlit sky, felt in such a happy state of repletion and tobacco as to be momentarily charitable--the which feeling induced him to say:

"i wish ludlow had been with us!"

"his own fault that he's not," said mr. stompff; "his own fault entirely. however, he's missed a pleasant evening. i rather think we've had the pull of him."

had geoff missed a pleasant evening? he thought otherwise. he thought he had, never had such an evening in his life; for the same cold steel-blue rays of the early spring moon which fell upon the topers in the blackwall balcony came gleaming in through mr. flexor's first-floor window, lighting up a pallid face set in a frame of dead-gold hair and pillowed on geoffrey ludlow's breast.