The first three words came with quite a flash of pleasure. After a pause, she added, in her abrupt style, "Nobody else likes it."
"Why?" I asked.
"Except Eustace, I mean, and he only because it pleases me. Oh, I don't know why. Tastes differ, I suppose. Father thinks it all nonsense. And mother says that corner is so incongruous with the rest."
We were near the small table already mentioned, and I turned to look upon the kingly Figure depicted above,—the Figure of One waiting with Divine patience at a barred and moss-grown door, and with a wondrous light of loving pity in His glorious Eyes. A hush crept over me as I gazed.
"Isn't it beautiful?" murmured Thyrza. "If only I could see the original painting!"
"I have seen it," I said.
"And you enjoy this—after that?"
"The more, for having seen that."
"It is so beautiful," she said again.
"More than beautiful," I answered. "One seems to gain a fresh insight into His character from studying that Face. There is such a mingling of majesty and tenderness."