dreams and aspirations, so that she saw more clearly than ever, that the only mistress beside herself which Milton had, was Art.
CHAPTER XI.
A PREACHER'S PASSION.
The departure of the editor, politician and broker left Ouida in a very reflective mood. Strange to say, her mind wandered to Paul, the model, as it had often done of late. "I'll soon call my Herculean model forth. Paul, the perfect brute! Yet, often when he thinks I am not observing, there comes into his eyes a look that makes me tremble, though I know not why. Can it be that I, who have a dozen mighty men, as this world goes, crawling at my feet, am falling captive to a coarse-grained beast, that sleeps and feeds from day to day throughout the year, without a thought or hope beyond the common cattle of the field?"
At this moment a card was handed Ouida, the reading of which filled her eyes with an almost devilish gleam of satisfaction.
"Show the gentleman up," was her swift command.
It was but a moment when Horatio Nugent, the great preacher, appeared before the sculptress!
"By admitting me to your presence, may I hope there is a truce between us?" he almost humbly said.
"Neither peace nor courtesy moved me to see you," was her unsatisfactory answer.
