"Bless you, dear Adeline, how glad I am to see you!" she exclaimed. "And your husband! What a perfectly matched pair you are! Welcome-many times welcome".
"Ah, Biddy Court, ’tis good to see you". Adeline warmly returned the embrace, but Philip had a feeling that no love was lost between them.
A thousand questions were asked about their voyage and their plans for going to Canada. Renny Court took the opportunity to disparage the enterprise.
At dinner that night another guest appeared-old Lord Killiekeggan, Adeline’s grandfather. He was a handsome old man and it amused Philip to see Adeline standing between him and her father, bearing a likeness to each. But she had chosen all their best points. How lovely she was, Philip thought, in her yellow satin dinner gown! No other woman could compare with her.
The conversation hinged on steeplechasing, on which subject the old Marquis and his son-in-law were in perfect accord. Neither of them took any interest in the Army nor did Corrigan Court who held himself somewhat aloof, as though he existed on a more intellectual plane. The gentlemen remained in the dining-room and drank a good deal, for the port was excellent. On the way to the drawing-room with her hostess, Adeline stopped in amazement before a picture that hung against the dark panelling of the hall. The other paintings were of men in hunting clothes, velvet court dress or in armour. But this portrait was of a little girl of eight, her flower-like face set off by a wreath of auburn hair. Adeline exclaimed, in a loud voice:
"Why, it’s me! And what am I doing here, I should like to know, Biddy Court!"
Biddy Court hesitated, looking uncomfortable. Then she said:
"It’s Corry’s. Your father owed him money and he gave him the portrait in payment. Not that it covered the debt-far from it! Come along, Adeline, do! It’s dreadfully draughty here".
But Adeline stood transfixed. She snatched up a lighted candle that stood on the top of a chest and held it so that its beams lighted the little face.
"How beautiful I was!" she cried. "Oh, the beautiful face of me! Oh, the shame to my father that he should have given such a treasure to Corry Court! It’s enough to make me cry my eyes out!" She turned furiously to her cousin. "What was the debt?"
"I don’t know", returned Bridget, "except that it was double what the portrait is worth".
"Then it must be a fortune indeed, for the portrait was painted by one of the greatest artists living!"
"You are welcome to the picture", said Bridget, "if only you will pay the debt".
"I’ll pay no debts but my own! But, oh, I do so want this picture! ’Twill be a lovely thing to take out to Canada and hang beside my new portrait-the one I’ve told you of".
"I suppose you’ll go on having portraits of yourself painted till you’re a hundred! Ah, I wish I could see that last one! It’s a raving beauty you’ll be then, Adeline".
"I shall be on the face of the earth, which is more than you will be!"
Still carrying the lighted candle she flew back along the hall and flung open the door of the dining-room. The four men were talking in quiet tones, the firelight throwing a peaceful glow about them, the candles burning low. The decanter of port in the hand of Lord Killiekeggan trembled a little as he replenished his glass.
"Oh, but it’s a queer father you are!" cried Adeline, fixing her eyes on Renny Court. "To give away the portrait of your own child for a paltry debt, not worth the gilt frame on it! There I was, walking down the hall in my innocence, when suddenly I spied it hanging on the wall and it all but cried out in its shame at being there. The candle all but fell out of my hand in my shame. Oh, well do I remember when my mother took me to Dublin to have it painted and the way the great artist gave me flowers and sweets to amuse me and the sweet little coral necklace that my grandmother gave me! Oh, Grandpapa, did you know that my father had done such a thing?"
"Is the girl mad?" asked Killiekeggan, turning to his son-in-law.
"No, no-just in a temper". He spoke sternly to Adeline. "Come now-enough of this! The picture is not worth this to-do".
"Not worth it!" she cried. "’Tis little you know of its value! Why, when I told the London artist the name of the great man who had painted me in childhood, he said he would gladly journey all the way to County Meath to gaze on the portrait!"
Corrigan Court asked abruptly, "And what was the name of the great artist, Adeline?"
Her lips fell apart. She stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. She pressed her fingers to her brows and thought and then said sadly, "You’ve knocked it right out of my head, Corry. It was there just a moment ago". Her face lighted and she turned to Philip. "I’ve said his name to you many a time, haven’t I, Philip?"
"You have", said Philip stoutly. "Many a time".
"And you’ve forgotten it too?" said Corrigan.
"Yes. It has just slipped my memory". He had been drinking a good deal. His fair face was flushed.
"One glance at the portrait", said Adeline, "even from a distance, and the name will come to me". She turned back into the hall. The four men rose and followed her, the old Marquis carrying his glass in his hand. At about ten paces from the picture she halted and strained her eyes toward its lower corner. She had wonderful eyesight. "I could not possibly read the name from here, could I?" she asked.
"No", returned Corrigan. "And if you put your very nose against the picture you won’t see any signature, for either the artist did not consider it worth the trouble of signing or he was ashamed of his name".
She all but threw the candlestick at his head. "You’ve painted the name out yourself, Corry Court", she cried, "you’ve painted it out so as to conceal its great worth! You knew that if some connoisseur saw it he would tell my father of the evil bargain you made!"
Renny Court threw a suspicious look at his cousin Corrigan. He then took the candle from Adeline’s hand and holding it close to the portrait, scrutinised the two lower corners. "It’s a queer little blob there is here", he said.
"Yes", cried Adeline, "that’s just where the signature was! It was signed with a sweet little flourish. Oh, the name will come back to me in a moment!"
"It was never signed", said Corry Court. "And you know it was never signed. It’s a pretty picture and I’ve always liked it and, when your father offered it to me, I took it. I well knew it was all I was likely to get for the debt".
"Oh, Father, how could you?" said Adeline, tears shining in her eyes. "There’s nothing I want so much as this picture. And I was going to beg it from you as another wee wedding present, for you acknowledged yourself, in a letter you wrote me to India, that it was not much you’d been able to give me in the way of a present".
"Not much!" cried Renny Court. "Why, I’m still in debt for your trousseau! If you want this picture so badly-you have the money your great-aunt left you-buy it!"
"I’ll not part with it", said Corry.
Adeline turned to him with a charming smile.
"You still love me, Corry dear, don’t you?"
They exchanged a look. Corrigan flushed red. Adeline gazed at him with affectionate pity.
"You may keep the picture, Corry dear", she said. "I shall love to think of it here-reminding you and Biddy of me".