CHAPTER XIX. A STUDIO
It is one of the most inestimable privileges of Art, that amidst all thecares and contentions of the world, amidst strife and war and carnage,its glorious realm is undisturbed, its peace unbroken, and its followersfree to follow their own wayward fancies, without let or hindrance.Your great practical intelligences, your men of committees and corn andrailroads and ship-canals, sneer at the fictitious life--for so doesit seem to them--of the mere painter or musician. They have a sort ofpitying estimate for capacities only exercised upon the ideal, and lookdown with a very palpable contempt upon those whose world is a galleryor an orchestra. After all, this division of labor is a wise and happyprovision, carrying with it many and varied benefits, and making of thatstrange edifice of mankind a far more pleasing and harmonious structurethan we should otherwise have seen it. The imagination is to the actual,in the world of active life, what flowers are to nutritious herbsand roots. It is the influence that adorns, elevates, and embellishesexistence. That such gifts have been confided to certain individualsis in itself a sufficient evidence, just as we see in the existenceof flowers that pleasure has its place assigned in the grand scheme ofcreation, and that the happiness which flows from gratified sense hasnot been denied us.
In that petty world which lived beneath the roof of Cro' Martin Castle,all the eager passions and excitements of political intrigue were nowat work. My lady was full of plans for future greatness; Repton wasscheming and suggesting, and thwarting everybody in turn; and evenMartin himself, engulfed in the "Maelstrom" of the crisis, was rousedinto a state of semi-preparation that amounted to a condition of almostfever. As for Massingbred, whatever he really did feel, his manneraffected a most consummate indifference to all that went forward; nordid the mention of his father's appointment to high office elicit fromhim anything beyond a somewhat contemptuous opinion of the new partyin power. While, therefore, secret counsels were held, letters readand written, conferences conducted in every room, one little space wasdevoid of all these embarrassments and anxieties, and that was an ovalchamber, lighted from the top, and originally destined for a summerball-room, but now appropriated to Mr. Crow's use for the completion ofthe Grand Historical, which had lately been transferred from Kilkieranto its place there.
The unlucky masterpiece was doomed to many a difficulty. The greatevents in prospect had totally banished all thought of "art" from LadyDorothea's mind. The fall of a recent administration was a far moreimminent circumstance than the abdication of a king a few centuriesback. Martin, of course, had enough on his head, without the cares ofmock royalty. Mary was overwhelmed with occupations. The floods anda threatened famine were casualties not to be overlooked; and she wasabsent every day from dawn to late night; while, to complete the listof defaulters, young Nelligan--the future Prince of Orange of thepicture--was gone!
Men deplore their past youth, their bygone buoyancy of heart, their oldloves and extinct friendships; but of all departed pleasures, there is apeculiar poignancy about one, and that is an artist's grief over a "lostsitter." You ladies and gentlemen whose thumbs have never closed ona palette, nor whose fingers have never felt the soft influence ofvarnish, may smile at such a sorrow, but take my word for it, it is areal and tangible affliction.
The waving locks, the noble brow; the deep square orbits, and the finelycut chin are but the subtle suggestions out of which inspirations arebegotten, and poetic visions nurtured. The graceful bearing and thenoble port, the tender melancholy or the buoyant gladness, have eachin turn struck some chord of secret feeling in the artist's breast,revealing to him new ideas of beauty, and imparting that creative powerwhich displays itself in new combinations.
Poor Simmy Crow was not a Titian nor a Vandyke, but unhappily thesorrows of genius are very often experienced by those who are not giftedwith its greatness; and the humble aspirant of excellence can catchevery malady to which the triumphant in all the wild enthusiasm of hispowers is exposed. He sat down before his canvas, as some general mightbefore a fortified town which had resisted all his efforts of attack. Hewas depressed and discouraged.
The upper part of the young student's head was already half finished,and there was enough done to impart a kind of promise of success,--thatglorious vista which opens itself so often in imagination to those whoseworld is but their own fancy. He half thought he could finish it frommemory; but before he had proceeded many minutes, he laid down thebrush in despair. It seemed like a fatality that something must alwaysinterpose to bar the road to success. One time it was sickness, thenit was poverty; a disparaging criticism had even done it; and now, whennone of these threatened, there arose a new impediment. "Ah! Simmy,Simmy," he exclaimed aloud, "you were born under an unkindly planet.That's the secret of it all!"
"I confess I cannot concur in that opinion," said a low, soft voicebehind him. He started up, and beheld Kate Henderson, who, leaningon the back of a chair, continued to gaze steadfastly at the canvas,perfectly regardless of his astonishment. "There is a great deal toadmire in that picture!" said she, as though talking to herself.
Simmy crept stealthily back, and stationed himself behind her, as if tohear her remarks, while viewing the picture from the same point.
"You have grouped your figures admirably," continued she, now addressinghim, "and your management of the light shows a study of Rembrandt."
"Very true, ma'am--miss, I mean. I have copied nearly all his greatpieces."
"And the drapery--that robe of the King's--tells me that you havestudied another great master of color--am I right, sir, in saying PaulVeronese?"
Simmy Crow's face glowed till it became crimson, while his eyes sparkledwith intense delight.
"Oh, dear me!" he exclaimed, "is n't it too much happiness to hear this?and only a minute ago I was in black despair!"
"Mine is very humble criticism, sir; but as I have seen good pictures--"
"Where? In the galleries abroad?" broke in Crow, hurriedly.
"All over Germany and Italy. I travelled with those who really caredfor and understood art. But to come back to yours--that head is a noblestudy."
"And that's exactly what I'm grieving over,--he's gone."
"Young Mr. Nelligan?"
"Himself. He started this morning for Oughterard."
"But probably to return in a day or two."
Crow looked stealthily around to see if he were not likely to beoverheard, and then, approaching Kate, said in a whisper,--
"I don't think he 'll ever cross the doors again."
"How so? has he received any offence?"
"I can't make out what it is," said Simmy, with a puzzled look, "but hecame to my room late last night, and sat down without saying a word; andat last, when I questioned him if he were ill, he said suddenly,--
"'Have you found, Mr. Crow, that in your career as an artist, you havebeen able to withdraw yourself sufficiently from the ordinary eventsof life as to make up a little world of your own, wherein you livedindifferent to passing incidents?'
"'Yes,' said I, 'I have, whenever I was doing anything really worth thename.'
"'And at such times,' said he, again, 'you cared nothing, or next tonothing, for either the flatteries or the sarcasms of those around you?"
"'I could n't mind them,' said I, 'for I never so much as heard them.'
"'Exactly what I mean,' said he, rapidly. 'Intent upon higher ambitions,you were above the petty slights of malice or envy, and with yourown goal before you, were steeled against the minor casualties of thejourney. Then why should not I also enjoy the immunity? Can I not summonto my aid a pride like this, or am I to be discouraged and disgraced tomy own heart by a mere impertinence?'
"I stared at him, not guessing what he could mean.
"'Rather quit the spot with which it is associated,--quit it forever,'muttered he to himself, as he paced the room, while his face grewdeathly pale.
"'As for me,' said I, for I wanted to say something--anything, inshort--just to take his attention a little off of himself, 'when
ever theworld goes hard with me, I just step into my studio, lock the door, andsit down before a fresh canvas. I throw in a bit of brown, with a dashof bluish gray over it,--half sky, half atmosphere,--and I daub awaytill something like an effect--maybe a sunset, maybe a sullen-lookingseashore, maybe a long, low prairie swell--rises before me. I don't tryfor details, I don't even trace an outline, but just throw in an effecthere and there, and by good luck it often comes right, in some fineharmony of color, that's sure to warm up my heart and cheer my spirits;for, as there are sounds that, swelling up, fill the whole nature of manwith ecstasy, there are combinations of color and tint that enter thebrain by the eye, and just produce the same sense of delight.'"
"And how did he accept your consolation?" asked she, smilinggood-naturedly.
"I don't well know if he listened to me," said Simmy, sorrowfully; "forall he said afterwards was,--
"'Well, Mr. Crow, good-bye. I hope you 'll come to see me when you visitDublin. You 'll easily find out my chambers in the college.'
"Of course I said, 'I'd be delighted;' and there we parted."
"Poor fellow!" said Kate, but in an accent so peculiar it would havebeen very difficult to pronounce whether the words were of kindness orof disparagement.
"And your Prince, Mr. Crow?" said she, changing her tone to one of realor affected interest; "what's to be done now that Mr. Nelligan has leftus?"
"I'm thinking of making a background figure of him, miss," said Simmy."Burnt sienna reduces many an illustrious individual to an obscureposition."
"But why not ask Mr. Massingbred to take his place--you've seen him?"
"Only passing the window, miss. He is a handsome young man, but thatsame look of fashion, the dash of style about him, is exactly whatdestroys the face for _me_, I feel I could make nothing of it; I 'dbe always thinking of him standing inside the plate-glass window of aLondon club, or cantering along the alleys of the Park, or sipping hisiced lemonade at Tortoni's. There's no poetizing your man of gold chainsand embroidered waistcoats!"
"I half suspect you are unjust in this case," said she, with one of herdubious smiles.
"I'm only saying what the effect is upon myself, miss," said Crow.
"But why not make a compromise between the two?" said she. "I believethe great painters--Vandyke, certainly--rarely took the studies from asingle head. They caught a brow here, and a mouth there, harmonizing thedetails by the suggestions of their own genius. Now, what if, preservingall this here,"--and she pointed to the head and eyes,--"you were tofill up the remainder, partly from imagination, partly from a study."And as she spoke she took the brush from his hand, and by a few lightand careless touches imparted a new character to the face.
"Oh, go on! that's admirable,--that's glorious!" exclaimed Crow, wildwith delight.
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"There is no necessity to lose the expression of haughty sorrow in theeye and brow," continued she; "nor does it interfere with the passingemotion he may be supposed unable to control, of proud contempt for thatpriestly influence which has dominated over the ambition of a king."And now, as though carried away by the theme, she continued to paint asrapidly as she spoke, while Crow busied himself in preparing the colorsupon the palette.
"My hardihood is only intended to encourage you, Mr. Crow," said she,"by showing that if one like me can point the road, the journey need notbe deemed a difficult one." As she retired some paces to contemplate thepicture, she casually glanced through a low glass door which opened uponthe lawn, and where, under the shelter of a leafy beech, a young countrygirl was standing; her blue cloth cloak, with the hood thrown over herhead, gave a certain picturesque character to the figure, which nearerinspection more than confirmed, for her features were singularly fine,and her large, soft blue eyes beamed with a gentle earnestness thatshowed Kate she was there with a purpose.
Opening the door at once, Kate Henderson approached her, and asked whatshe wanted.
With an air of half pride, half shame, the country girl drew herself up,and stared full and steadfastly at the speaker, and so continued tillKate repeated her question.
"Sure you're not Miss Mary?" replied she, by questioning her in turn.
"No, but if I can be of any use to you--"
"I don't think you can," broke she in, with a manner almost haughty;"it's somebody else I 'm wanting."
"If you wish to see Miss Martin, I 'll go and fetch her," said Kate.
"I did n't say it was her I wanted to see," replied she, with a calm andalmost severe composure.
"Maybe her Ladyship?" asked Kate, far more interested than repelled bythe other's manner.
"It's none of them at all," rejoined she. "I came here to speak to onethat I know myself," added she, after a long pause; "and if he isn'tgone, I want to see him."
"Oh, I think I can guess now," said Kate, smiling. "It is the Counsellorfrom Dublin, Mr. Repton."
"It is no such thing," said the girl, promptly.
"Then it must be Mr. Crow, here."
An indignant toss of the head gave the negative to this surmise.
"I have gone through all our names here," said Kate; "and except Mr.Massingbred--"
"And there's the very one I want," said the girl, boldly.
"Step in here and rest yourself, and I 'll send for him," said Kate; andwith such persuasive courtesy were the words uttered, that almost, as itseemed, against her very will the girl followed her into the studioand sat down. While Mr. Crow proceeded in search of Massingbred, KateHenderson, resuming brush and palette, returned to her painting; not,however, on the grand canvas of the "Historical," but dexterouslyinterposing a piece of fresh board, she seized the opportunity to sketchthe beautiful head then before her, while occupying the girl's attentionwith the objects around.
Notwithstanding her intense astonishment at all she saw, the countrygirl never uttered a word, nor vouchsafed a single question as to thepaintings; she even tried to moderate the eager pleasure they affordedby an endeavor not to admire them. Touched by the native pride of thisstruggle,--for struggle it was,--the features had assumed a look ofhaughty composure that well became the character of her beauty, andKate caught up the expression so rapidly that her sketch was alreadywell-nigh completed when Massing-bred entered.
"My dear Mistress Joan," cried he, shaking her cordially by both hands,"how glad I am to see you again! It was but this very moment I wasinquiring how I could go over and pay you a visit."
Hurriedly as these words were uttered, and in all the apparent fervorof hearty sincerity, they were accompanied by a short glance at KateHenderson, who was about to leave the room, that plainly said, "Remainwhere you are, there is no mystery here."
"I thank yer honer kindly," said Joan Landy, "but it's no good coming,he is n't there."
"Not there!--how and why is that?"
"Sure _you_ ought to know better than me," said she, fixing her largeeyes full upon him. "Ye left the house together, and _he_ never cameback since."
"Oh, perhaps I can guess," said Jack, pausing for a moment to reflect."He might have deemed it safer to keep out of the way for a day or two."
"It's no good deceivin' me, sir," said she, rising from her seat; "tellme the whole truth. Where is he?"
"That is really more than I can say, my dear Mistress Joan. We parted inOughterard."
"And you never saw him after?"
"Never, I assure you."
"And you never tried to see him?--you never asked what became of him?"
"I concluded, indeed I was certain, that he returned home," said Jack,but not without some confusion.
"Ay, that was enough for you," said she, angrily. "If you were a poorlabor in' man, you 'd not desert him that had you under his roof andgave you the best he had; but because ye 're a gentleman--"
"It is precisely for that reason I can't suffer you to think so meanlyof me," cried Jack. "Now just hear me for one moment, and you'll see howunjust you've been." And, drawing his chair closer to hers, he narratedin a low and whispering voice the f
ew events of their morning atOughterard, and read for her the short note Magennis had written to him.
"And is that all?" exclaimed Joan, when he concluded.
"All, upon my honor!" said he, solemnly.
"Oh, then, wirra! wirra!" said she, wringing her hands sorrowfully, "whydid I come here?--why did n't I bear it all patient? But sure my heartwas bursting, and I could not rest nor sleep, thinking of what happenedto him! Oh, yer honer knows well what he is to _me!_" And she coveredher face with her hands.
"You have done nothing wrong in coming here," said Jack, consolingly.
"Not if he never hears of it," said she, in a voice tremulous with fear.
"That he need never do," rejoined Jack; "though I cannot see why heshould object to it. But come, Mrs. Joan, don't let this fret you;here's a young lady will tell you, as I have, that nobody could possiblyblame your natural anxiety."
"What would a young lady know about a poor creature like _me?_"exclaimed Joan, dejectedly. "Sure, from the day she's born, she neverfelt what it was to be all alone and friendless!"
"You little guess to whom you say that," said Kate, turning round andgazing on her calmly; "but if the balance were struck this minute, takemy word for it, you 'd have the better share of fortune."
Jack Massingbred's cheek quivered slightly as he heard these words,and his eyes were bent upon the speaker with an intense meaning. Kate,however, turned haughtily away from the gaze, and coldly reminded himthat Mrs. Joan should have some refreshment after her long walk.
"No, miss,--no, yer honer; many thanks for the same," said Joan, drawingher cloak around her. "I couldn't eat a bit; my heart's heavy inside me.I 'll go back now."
Kate tried to persuade her to take something, or, at least, to rest alittle longer; but she was resolute, and eager to return.
"Shall we bear you company part of the way, then?" said Jack, with alook of half entreaty towards Kate.
"I shall be but too happy," said Kate, while she turned the nearlycompleted sketch to the wall, but not so rapidly as to preventMassingbred's catching a glimpse of it.
"How like!" exclaimed he, but only in a whisper audible to himself. "Ididn't know that this also was one of your accomplishments."
A little laugh and a saucy motion of her head was all her reply, whileshe went in search of her bonnet and shawl. She was back again in amoment, and the three now issued forth into the wood.
For all Jack Massingbred's boasted "tact," and his assumed power ofsuiting himself to his company, he felt very ill at ease as he walkedalong that morning. "His world" was not that of the poor country girl athis side, and he essayed in vain to find some topic to interest her. Notso Kate Henderson. With all a woman's nice perception, and quite withouteffort, she talked to Joan about the country and the people, of whosehabits she knew sufficient not to betray ignorance; and although Joanfelt at times a half-suspicious distrust of her, she grew at length tobe pleased with the tone of easy familiarity used towards her, and theabsence of anything bordering on superiority.
Joan, whose instincts and sympathies were all with the humble class fromwhich she sprung, described in touching language the suffering conditionof the people, the terrible struggle against destitution maintained foryears, and daily becoming more difficult and hopeless. It was like ashipwrecked crew reduced to quarter-rations, and now about to relinquisheven these!
"And they are patient under all this?" asked Kate, with that peculiaraccent so difficult to pronounce its meaning.
"They are, indeed, miss," was the answer.
"Have they any hope? What do they promise themselves as the remedy forthese calamities?"
"Sorrow one of 'em knows," said she, with a sigh. "Some goes away toAmerica, some sinks slowly under it, and waits for God's time to leavethe world; and a few--but very few--gets roused to anger, and doessomething to be transported or put in jail."
"And Miss Martin,--does she not relieve a good deal of this misery? Isshe not of immense benefit by her exertions here?"
"Arrah, what can a young lady do, after all? Sure it's always them thattalks most and best gets over her. Some are ashamed, and some are tooproud to tell what they 're suffering; and I believe in my heart, forone that 's relieved there are twenty more angry at seeing how lucky hewas."
They walked along now for some time in silence, when Joan, stoppingshort, said, "There's the house, miss; that's the place I live in."
"That house far away on the mountain side?"
"Yes, miss; it's four miles yet from this."
"But surely you haven't to walk all that way?"
"What signifies it? Is n't my heart lighter than when I came along thismorning? And now I won't let you come any farther, for I'll take a shortcut here across the fields."
"May I go and see you one of these days?" asked Kate.
Joan grew crimson to the very roots of her hair, and turned a look onMassingbred, as though to say, "You ought to answer this for me." ButJack was too deep in his own thoughts even to notice the appeal.
"I can scarcely ask _you_ to come to _me_," said Kate, quicklyperceiving a difficulty, "for I 'm not even a visitor at Cro' Martin."
"I 'm sure I hope it 's not the last time we 'll meet, miss; butmaybe,"--she faltered, and a heavy tear burst forth, and rolled slowlyalong her cheek,--"maybe you oughtn't to come and see me."
Kate pressed her hand affectionately, without speaking, and they parted.
"Is Joan gone?" asked Massingbred, raising his head from an attitude ofdeep revery. "When did she leave us?"
"There she goes yonder," said Kate, pointing. "I fear me her spirits arenot as light as her footsteps. Are her people very poor?"
"Her father was a herd, I believe," said he, carelessly; "but she doesn't live at home."
"Is she married, then?"
"I 'm not sure that she is; but at least she believes that she is."
"Poor thing!" said Kate, calmly, while, folding her arms, she continuedto gaze after the departing figure of the country girl. "Poor thing!"repeated she once more, and turned to walk homewards.
Massingbred fixed his eyes upon her keenly as she uttered the words; fewand simple as they were, they seemed to reveal to him something ofthe nature of her who spoke them. A mere exclamation--a syllable--willsometimes convey "whole worlds of secret thought and feeling," and itwas evidently thus that Massingbred interpreted this brief expression."There was nothing of scorn in that pity," thought he. "I wish she haduttered even one word more! She is a strange creature!"
And it was thus speaking to himself that he walked along at her side.
"This wild and desolate scene is not very like that of which we talkedthe other night,--when first we met,--Miss Henderson."
"You forget that we never met," said she, calmly.
"True, and yet there was a link between us even in those few flowersthrown at random."
"Don't be romantic, Mr. Massingbred; do not, I pray you," said she,smiling faintly. "You _know_ it's not your style, while it would beutterly thrown away upon _me_, I am aware that fine gentlemen of yourstamp deem this the fitting tone to assume towards 'the governess;' butI 'm really unworthy of it."
"What a strange girl you are!" said he, half thinking aloud.
"On the contrary, how very commonplace!" said she, hastily.
"Do you like this country?" asked Massingbred, with an imitation of herown abrupt manner.
"No," said she, shortly.
"Nor the people?"
"Nor the people!" was the answer.
"And is your life to be passed amongst them?"
"Perhaps," said she, with a slight gesture of her shoulders. "Don't youknow, Mr. Massingbred," added she, with more energy, "that a woman hasno more power to shape her destiny than a leaf has to choose where itwill fall? If I were a man,--you, for instance,--I would think and actdifferently."
"I should like to hear what you would do if in my place," said Jack,with a degree of deep interest in the remark.
"To begin, I'll tell you what I
would not do," said she, firmly. "I 'dnot waste very good abilities on very small objects; I 'd neither havesmall ambitions nor small animosities. You have both."
"As how?" asked he, frankly, and with no touch of irritation.
"Am I to be candid?"
"Certainly."
"Even to rudeness?"
"Cut as deeply as you like," said he, smiling.
"Then here goes: For the 'small ambition' I speak of, it was displayedyesterday at dinner, when, in rivalry with that old lawyer, youcondescended to play agreeable, to out-talk him, out-quote, andout-anecdote him. It is true you succeeded; but what a poor success itwas! how inadequate to the forces that were mustered to effect it!"
"And now for the other count of the indictment," said he, with a halfsmile.
"First, do you plead guilty to this one?" asked she.
"Yes; with an 'extenuating circumstance.'"
"What is that?"
"Why, that _you_ were present," said Jack, with a glance of more thanmere passing gallantry.
"Well," said she, after a pause, "I _did_ take some of the display tomy own share. I saw that you did n't care to captivate the young lady ofthe house, and that my Lady bored you."
"Insufferably!" exclaimed Jack, with energy.
"Your manner showed it," said she, "even more than such polish ought tohave betrayed."
"But I 'm sure I never exhibited any signs of my martyrdom," said he; "Istood my torture well."
"Not half so heroically as you fancied I noticed your weariness beforethe dinner was half over, as I detected your splenetic dislike to youngMr. Nelligan--"
"To young Nelligan?--then he has told you--"
"Stop,--be cautious," broke she in, hurriedly; "don't turn evidenceagainst yourself. _He_ has told me nothing."
"Then what do you know?"
"Nothing; I only surmise."
"And what is your surmise?"
"That he and you had met before,--that you had even been intimate,--andnow, from some misunderstanding, you had ceased to be friends. Mind, Idon't want confessions; I don't seek to learn your secrets."
"But you shall hear this from me," said Massingbred, with earnestness;"and perhaps you, so ready to blame me for some things, may see reasonto think well of me in this." He then related, briefly, but simply,the history of his acquaintance with Nelligan; he dwelt, not withoutfeeling, upon the passages of their student-life, and at last spoke ofhis chance visit to Oughterard, and the accident by which he became oldNelligan's guest. "What can you make of Joseph's conduct," cried he;"or how explain his refusal to meet me at his father's table? One of tworeasons there must be. He either discredits me in the character of hisfriend, or shrinks, with an ignoble shame, from appearing there in hisreal position,--the son of the country shopkeeper! I scarcely know if I'd not prefer he should have been actuated by the former motive; thoughmore offensive to me, in _him_ it were more manly."
"Why not have asked him which alternative he accepted?" asked Kate.
"Because the opportunity to wound him deeply--incurably--first presenteditself. I knew well that nothing would hurt him like the cool assumptionof not recognizing him, and I determined not to lose my vengeance."
"I'm a woman," said Kate, "and I'd not have stooped to _that!_"
It was rarely that Massingbred's emotions gave any evidence of theirworking; but now his cheek grew crimson, as he said, "A man can onlymeasure a man's indignation."
"You are angry without cause," said she, calmly; "you wish me topronounce a verdict on an act, and are displeased because I thinkdifferently from you. How right I was in my guess that small animositieswere amongst your failings! You seek now to quarrel with _me!_"
Massingbred walked along for some moments without speaking, and thensaid, "You knew Nelligan formerly?"
"Yes, we were playfellows together as children; lovers, I believe, alittle later on--"
"And now?" broke he in.
"And now very good friends, as the world uses that phrase. At allevents," added she, after a brief pause, "enough his friend to be ableto say that you have wronged him by your suspicions. Joe Nelligan--orI'm much mistaken--may feel the inequality of his position as asomething to overcome, a barrier to be surmounted; not as a disabilityto contest the prizes of life even with such as Mr. Massingbred."
"It is _you_ now would quarrel with _me_," said Jack, retorting her ownwords upon her. "And yet," he added, in a lower tone, "I would wish tohave you my friend."
"So you can, upon one condition," replied she, promptly.
"I accept, whatever it be. Name it."
"That you be your own friend; that you address yourself to the businessof life seriously and steadily, resolving to employ your abilities as ameans of advancement, not as a mere instrument for amusement; determine,in fact, to be something besides a _dilettante_ and an idler."
"Is it a bargain, then, if I do this?" asked he, eagerly.
"Yes; I promise you the high and mighty boon of _my_ friendship,"replied she, with mock solemnity.
"And so we seal our contract," said he, pressing her hand to his lips,but with an air of such respectful gallantry that the action impliednothing bordering on a liberty.
"And now I leave you," said she, as she opened the wicket-gate of asmall flower-garden; "such conferences as ours must not be repeated,or they might be remarked upon. Good-bye." And without waiting for hisreply, she passed on into the garden, while Massingbred stood gazingafter her silently and thoughtfully.