“I meant no animadversions against any one, and certainly intended no disrespectful allusions to your mother. I have known some sensible persons great adepts in that style of conversation when circumstances impelled them to it; but it is a gift I cannot boast the possession of. I kept up my attention on this occasion as long as I could, but when my powers were exhausted I stole away to seek a few minutes’ repose in this quiet walk. I hate talking where there is no exchange of ideas or sentiments, and no good given or received.”
“Well,” said I, “if ever I trouble you with my loquacity, tell me so at once, and I promise not to be offended; for I possess the faculty of enjoying the company of those I—of my friends as well in silence as in conversation.”
“I don’t quite believe you; but if it were so you would exactly suit me for a companion.”
“I am all you wish, then, in other respects?”
“No, I don’t mean that. How beautiful those little clusters of foliage look, where the sun comes through behind them!” said she, on purpose to change the subject.
And they did look beautiful, where at intervals the level rays of the sun penetrating the thickness of trees and shrubs on the opposite side of the path before us, relieved their dusky verdure by displaying patches of semi-transparent leaves of resplendent golden green.
“I almost wish I were not a painter,” observed my companion.
“Why so? one would think at such a time you would most exult in your privilege of being able to imitate the various brilliant and delightful touches of nature.”
“No; for instead of delivering myself up to the full enjoyment of them as others do, I am always troubling my head about how I could produce the same effect upon canvas; and as that can never be done, it is mere vanity and vexation of spirit.”
“Perhaps you cannot do it to satisfy yourself, but you may and do succeed in delighting others with the result of your endeavours.”