But it should return.

It was well, perhaps, that he was blind, he knew so little of what had come on them.

There, where the black marks were on the wall, there had hung two pictures.

Margret and her father religiously believed them to be a Tintoret and Copley.

Well, they were gone now.
He had been used to dust them with a light brush every morning, himself, but now he said always,-- "You can clean the pictures to-day, Margret.