286 
THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
man half believes to be a memory. That 
she was beautiful he saw, but there was so 
much more than beauty in her that he half 
forgot it, even as he felt that the loveliness 
he found in her was not the kind that every 
eye would see. 
Her strange dignity swayed Nugent. She 
was painful, interesting, disturbing yet 
peaceful. His heart was full of shame 
tor her. 
“ My dear young lady, this is Mr. Nugent/’ 
said the solicitor. 
She was already standing, and Nugent 
offered her his hand. k ‘ l am grieved,” he 
said, simply. 
Both of those who knew the world were 
abashed before her, while a tear ran down her 
cheek. 
“ 1 thank you,” she said, in a low voice 
with tears in it. 
“ Come, sit down and tell me all about it/’ 
said Nugent, kindly. 
He was still young, and she seemed in- 
finitely young ; she was youth itself. And 
yet when he saw her eyes, dark blue-grey, 
like a misty pool overhung by reeds and shaded 
by foliage, she seemed infinitely old, and like 
an immortal. And as she spoke he wondered 
the more. “ Where have I seen her ? ” he 
asked. 
It seemed that she was very poor, and lived 
with her mother in rooms in Brixton. They 
had no friends. Yet everything in her voice 
and her appearance told the barrister that 
she had once known what the unhappy poor 
call better days. From what she told him 
it seemed that two assistants at Tilbury’s 
were prepared to swear they saw her take a 
purse which one of the women customers had 
laid upon the counter. As it was a sale they 
were unable, it seemed, to get hold of her at 
once — the crowd was very large. They said 
they saw her go rapidly into another depart- 
ment, and when they reached her the purse 
was discovered lying almost at her feet, as if 
she had dropped it to cover up the fact when 
she saw people coming straight to her. 
Nugent listened, and watched her as she 
spoke. And all the time his mind kept saying, 
“ I think she did it— I think she did it.” And 
yet when he looked at her he felt it could not 
be true. Before they went, Nugent turned to 
Smith and said, “ I should like to speak to this 
young lady just for one minute.” 
When they were alone he turned to her and 
asked, u My dear young lady, have we never 
met before ? ” 
For a moment she hesitated, and then shook 
her head. 
u Yet you asked for me to defend you,-' 
said Nugent. 44 Why ? ” 
a 1 had heard of you,” she said, with down- 
cast eyes. 
“ Tell me how ? ” he asked. 
“ I would rather not,” said the girl. u I 
felt that I must ask you. I hope you will 
forgive me, and if ” 
“If what ? ” asked Nugent. 
u If- if nothing happens,” she said, 
“ perhaps some day 1 might tell you why I 
asked Mr. Smith to get you to appear for me." 
And then he went away. He drove with 
Smith as far as Westminster Bridge, and there 
left him. The solicitor was going on to 
Brixton. 
The day was beautiful, and Mark Nugent, 
who loved the river, walked along the Embank- 
ment as he went back to the Temple. Once 
he stood and looked at the stream. Yet he 
was not thinking of what he saw, but of this 
young Madonna. Why had she sent for him ? 
Deep in his mind he felt that he knew her, and 
she appealed to him very strangely. 
It was nearly four o’clock before Mr. Smith 
returned from Brixton. He was taken 
straight in to Mark Nugent. 
£< Well, you went down there and saw the 
mother ? ” said Nugent, and Smith nodded. 
“ Yes, Mr. Nugent, and she’s a very wonder- 
ful lady, but shockingly poor, I should think, 
although they still have two rooms. She told 
me that they were behind with their rent and 
were under notice to quit.” 
“ Is that so ? ” said Mark. “ But how did 
you explain this about her daughter ? ” 
“ I think I did it all right,” said Smith. 
“ Mrs. Stewart seems to believe that I and 
my wife have been her daughter’s friends for 
a long time. 1 said that the girl had sprained 
her ankle and could not walk, and now if we 
get her out and back home there will be 
nothing the matter with her.” 
“ Well, that won’t matter much,” said 
Nugent. “ But what defence can you sug- 
gest ? ” 
“ Upon my word, I don’t know,” said the 
solicitor, looking chapfallen. “ Have you 
any idea, sir ? ” 
For a moment Mark Nugent did not answer. 
Ele seemed in a brown study. But presently 
he looked up. 
/ You said she was like the Sistine Madonna. 
Mr. Smith, and you are right ; but haven’t 
you ever met other young women much like 
her, perhaps of a grosser type, but still the 
same ? Oh. I’m sure you have.” 
At this Smith jumped from his seat with a 
loud exclamation. 
