Frances Mary Peard

“ Meanwhile Miss Aitcheson wandered about, looking as she liked—at faded hangings, and ancient Indian rugs of fabulously fine needlework, and pictures in frames and out of them, and the parrot in his cage, and odd bits of a painter’s property. In this fashion she enjoyed the studio a hundred times more than if she had been called upon at every moment to remark on its contents; and certainly the painter and Mrs Marchmont were doing very well without her. ”

“ The plunge gave him, it must be owned, an odd sensation, the more so when he saw that he was only just in time, for Jack was on the other side of the street in the act of crossing, Everitt strode on quickly. He fancied himself the centre of all eyes, but after a time this feeling wore off. The people who glanced at him only saw a model on his way to a studio, a picturesque figure in the midst of unlovely things; the children stared as they would have stared at a man with a monkey, or any other show ”

“ But Kitty did not laugh.
“Bell,” she said gravely, “I can’t believe it. I am sure you must be making some extraordinary mistake.”
“My dear, I am quite, quite certain. Why, even my father, who only saw him here yesterday, fidgeted all last night about some likeness. I didn’t say a word. It wouldn’t do with papa.”
“It will not do with any of us,” said Kitty, with spirit.
“You won’t tell your father?”
“I shall tell mother, and she can act as she likes.”
“Take care,” said Bell, more seriously. “You don’t want a regular fuss to grow out of a bit of absurdity. What has he done?” ”

“ It was early, and Everitt looked round him with a good deal of interest. The chapel, with its plaster ceiling and its high panelling of oak, was ugly enough, but there was enough in its details to be suggestive. The old soldiers came dropping in, with fine furrowed faces, and an air of pride over their medals and their clasps, which stand out in brave relief against their blue coats. Here is one quite blind, carefully led in by a comrade; there is another with an old, gentle face and snow-white hair, with four medals and quite a procession of clasps on his hollow chest. ”

“ The storm of the preceding day had left the air clear and delicious; the sunset colouring fell very softly on the delicate cathedral spires, on the shallow brawling river, on the trees which bordered the broad promenade by its side. Numbers of people were standing or sitting about, but there were two for whom, all their lives long, the beauty of that sunset will never be equalled.
“We,” one of them was saying—“we will certainly live at Quimper,”—and then he wisely tempered his rashness—“for part of every year.”
“And you shall paint,” said she.
“And you shall be my model this time. ”

“ There can be no doubt that silence is a power of which we underrate the force. Hours of ordinary small talk would not have affected Everitt so strongly as these quiet moments in the old oak-panelled room, with the sunlight, the birds, and the children outside; and inside, this girl—for he could not see her companion—working steadily, and, he was sure, well, with quiet, simple intentness. ”

“ That’s the man the painter-fellow last night was like. What was he called?—Egerton—Elliott—friend of Marchmont’s, you know, Bell. ’Pon my word, the most extraordinary likeness, eh, Bell, eh?”
“There was a likeness, certainly,” said his daughter calmly.
“A likeness! This man is his double. It’s been annoying me all the night. I never will be beaten by a likeness.”
“But I hope the model is not such a disreputable being as you describe,” said Mrs Lascelles, a shade of anxiety in her voice. “If he is, it cannot be very pleasant for you, Kitty.” ”

“ Jack said to himself, unmollified by the answering smile. “However, here goes! So long as Miss Aitcheson hears and repeats in the right quarter, it doesn’t matter who listens.” Aloud, he said, “People who only know Everitt as an artist can’t judge of his kindness of heart. You see, in our line there are a lot of poor wretches who find it awfully hard to pick up a living. Some are never good for anything, but there are a few who just want to be set on their legs, and then they stick there. ”

“ Miss Lascelles is an excellent artist. Her father is one of the staff at the Military Hospital, and has fitted up a studio for her, where she works with—a friend,” she added, with an imperceptible glance at Miss Aitcheson. “It is the most delightful old-world place you can imagine. Shall I drive you there some day?”
“Thank you; you are very good,” he said hastily, “but you must remember that I am not an idle man. Besides, it is quite unnecessary; I am doing this for you.”
“And you can find just what she wants? I knew you would,” said his cousin triumphantly. Everitt reflected. ”

“ He was dreadfully frivolous and inclined to laugh; he got Bell to describe poor Everitt’s shortcomings as a model, and the evident anguish which he endured, and then the two laughed together in a manner which, considering the aims which they professed, was, to say the least, heartless. Mrs Marchmont gave Bell a hint of this when she drove her away, and Bell resented the imputation.
“It was a jest from beginning to end—in one sense,” she said; “and Kitty’s mistake has been in treating it so seriously. If you encourage her in it, she will take on herself the airs of a tragic heroine.” ”

“ It appeared, under all these circumstances, as if the best thing he could do was to figure as a ruffian once more.
“It will be a lesson to me,” he said, with a half laugh, “even if fate lets me off this time without playing me a scurvy trick.”
Fate spared him. He got into his studio unseen of Hill or Jack. Jack came thundering at his door not three minutes after he had changed his clothes.
“A pretty fellow you are!” he began indignantly, when Everitt let him in. “Out larking all this morning, while we poor wretches toil and slave! ”

“ Don’t talk to me, Bell; if you had decent furniture, a man needn’t knock his shins against it.”
He went away grumbling. The girls looked at each other and laughed.
“It is a little like an earthquake,” remarked Bell, calmly.
“He is delightful everywhere but in a studio,” said Kitty. “He knows nothing about pictures, but he makes me feel I know less. Bell, is it all a waste of time?”
“I don’t know,” said Bell. “Make as good a waste of it as you can, at all events, and go on with your picture.” To Everitt—“Keep up your hand, please; it drops more and more. Are you used to standing for artists?” ”

“ The sudden change from the noisy racket without to the peace of this quiet spot, the charm of contrast between the dark houses and the black stems and the lovely lightness of green, the oddity of an old figure-head which ends the line of trees, prepare you, in some measure, for that other world of which they form a threshold—a world in which there is hard work and heart-burning and disappointment, but also the joy of beauty and the eager interest of creation. ”

“ In the midst of its trees lay the Hospital, warm red brick, with white pointings and grey stone pillars, on which the sunshine rested softly mellow; with its broad frontage of green turf, and its iron gates, and its little graveyard, where lie the old heroes waiting for the “last trumpet’s sounding.” Everitt had not been there for years ”

“ It was all very well to throw up the engagement, but was it fair upon Miss Lascelles? Everitt knew by experience that one model was by no means the same as another, and, as artist, he found his solution questionable. Also, he now felt an insurmountable objection to introducing the real Giuseppe to that little studio—it had an air of desecration repugnant to his good taste, if to nothing more. And thirdly, in spite of fooling, in spite of cramps, it must be owned he had a lurking desire to find himself there again ”

“ And now, if he had been a diplomatist, had even possessed the caution which Mrs Marchmont had urged upon him, he would have paused here, or strengthened his good impression by another tale of the same description. But unluckily Jack felt that more was incumbent upon him. He was for a bold assault which should carry the position by storm; and when might another opportunity present itself? “People don’t know Everitt,” he repeated; “he does out-of-the-way things. Miss Aitcheson,”—suddenly—“I’m afraid he’s offended your friends here awfully.” ”

“ She shook her head.
“They won’t be at all easy to square, as you call it. You had better leave them alone, and trust to the fates not to bring you across any of the Lascelles family again.”
An odd expression crossed Everitt’s face.
“That won’t do,” he said, getting up and standing with his back to the fireplace. “I want to see them again; at least, I want to see your friend.”
“Kitty? Oh!” exclaimed Mrs Marchmont, in blank amazement. “This is too exciting! Do you really mean it?”
“I mean that I should like to see her again,” repeated Everitt. “You may take that for what it’s worth.” ”

“ Sometimes he got in another painter to help him—a young fellow who, unlike Everitt, was only kept at work by the sheer necessity of living, but who had genius and the very lightest of hearts, and, being the most troublesome, was also the dearest to Everitt of all his comrades. ”

“ Everything was exquisitely trim and clean; the warm colours, the tender shadows on the old brick, the sunshine, the sober cheerfulness, the lilacs just breaking out in the gardens, the filmy green which daintily touched the trees, were full of delightful charm; and, though the river was not visible, a sort of feeling of its neighbourhood—a freshness in the air, an opening in the distance—added to this charm. ”

“ And overhead hang the old tattered remnants of flags taken in glorious battle, older many of them than the oldest men, held together by network, colours faded, substance gone—not a shred left on the Blenheim poles. There are the Waterloo eagles, there the republican cap of liberty still flaunts itself; but nowhere in the whole proud array is anything more pathetic than on one of the Indian flags, where, looking closely, you may see on the dull surface the print of a hand, the dead man’s hand whose faithful clasp is marked upon his trust for ever. ”

“ There is a broad thoroughfare along which the busy prosaic feverish rush of traffic ceaselessly presses; where all the surroundings are sordid and unpicturesque and unlovely; and, in the heart of this, a rusty entrance, with no feature to mark that it forms a division between two worlds, leads you into a strange, long court, where is an avenue of trees—twelve old pollarded trees, breaking into glad greenness of leaf, and gay with the twittering of birds. ”

“ Having fallen in with the fancy which suggested his present action, he was not the man to hesitate in the doing. He dressed himself rapidly, but with a care which descended to the smallest details, took down an old faded blue-green cloak, which had sunned itself often on the Trinita steps, and inspected himself closely in a looking-glass. On the whole, he thought it satisfactory. In an Italian dress his face appeared Italian; a weak point, of course, lay in his hair, which was short, but he pulled his broad hat over his forehead, and corked his eyebrows to a more generous breadth. ”

“ Studio Number One. Art, in London, has many unexpected hiding-places. In the great palace-like houses of her successful followers she makes, it is true, at times an imposing show; but other votaries, less successful or more indifferent to outward glitter, find curious homes in which to plant their easels or model their clay. ”

“ And now that you are here, won’t you sit down?” questioned Everitt in his turn, putting forward a couple of chairs, and clearing away a few motley bits of drapery.
“No,” said Mrs Marchmont; “I had two much better reasons. One was that I might bring Miss Aitcheson here. She has come up to London with an ingenuous mind which takes the most reverential attitude in the world towards art. I am trotting out all my lions for her benefit, and you are the biggest. ”

“ But now the boy reappeared followed by a dark figure in a shabby soutane.
“It is M. le curé,” said old Stevan, addressing himself politely to Kitty. “He has to cross to the island to see a sick person. These ladies will not object.”
The curé came deliberately down with firm, quick steps; he lifted his hat, stepped into the boat, and sat down. Kitty stepped after him; the boy took the oar to push off, but the old sailor still looked towards the land and lingered.
“I believe this is a ferry boat,” cried Mrs Lascelles, impatiently. “Look, Kitty, there is some one else!” ”

“ Why, in those few days some other man might come to the front!
It will be seen that Everitt was very far gone indeed.
He was trying to forget the stiffness of his arm, and he had quite succeeded in forgetting Miss Aitcheson when she came in.
“Oh, Bell!” reproachfully from Kitty.
“Yes, my dear, it’s too tiresome! But father has taken this fancy for coming with me, and he has kept me waiting for ages. I made Hugh walk with me, after all, and it is too late for any painting, and I am very much disappointed.”
“Yes,” said Kitty regretfully, “it is too late. The time is up.” ”

“ The old sailor was in the stern of the boat, steering, while the boy managed the brown sail. Kitty was next to Stevan, her mother next to her, opposite to her the curé, who had taken out a small breviary, and next to him Everitt. Everitt, having arranged himself and turned up the collar of his ulster, began to look about him at his companions. Mrs Lascelles saw a perception that she was English begin to dawn in his mind, then he glanced at Kitty, and she fancied a sudden suspicion crossed it. She took her resolution in a moment; the flash of knowledge would have to come sooner or later ”