‘Nay,’ said John, ‘a little fit of fatigue deserves no such harsh names.’
‘When it is my besetting sin—all here speaks of patience and unrepining.’
‘No, no, said John—‘if you cannot sit still; I have sat still too much. We have both a great deal to learn.’
As he spoke he unlocked a desk, took out a miniature, looked at it earnestly, and then in silence put it into her hand. She was disappointed; she knew she was not to expect beauty; but she had figured to herself a saintly, spiritual, pale countenance, and she saw that of a round-faced, rosy-cheeked, light-haired girl, looking only as if she was sitting for her picture.
After much doubt what to say, she ventured only, ‘I suppose this was done a long time ago?’
‘When she was quite a girl. Mrs. Percival gave it to me; it was taken for her long before. I used not to like it.’
‘I did not think she would have had so much colour.’
‘It was a thorough English face: she did not lose those rosy cheeks till want of air faded them. Then I should hardly have known her, but the countenance had become so much more—calm it had always been, reminding me of the description of Jeanie Deans’ countenance—I cannot tell you what it was then! I see a little dawning of that serenity on the mouth, even as it is here; but I wish anything could give you an idea of that look!’
Thank you for showing it to me,’ said Violet, earnestly.
After studying it a little while, he restored it to its place. He then took out a small box, and, after a moment’s hesitation, put into Violet’s hands a pink coral cross, shaped by the animals themselves, and fastened by a ring to a slender gold chain.