Alas! No. 260 was disposed of in two lines as 'the flaming production of a tyro in suspense between the Pre-Raphaelite and the Turneresque, who in the meantime had better study the primary rules of drawing.'
Poor Geraldine! She shed a great many bitter tears over the cruel verdict, while Marilda characterised it as wicked, ill-natured, and spiteful; and when Edgar came to them they received him with tenderness and sympathy that would have befitted his sentence in his own proper person.
He was crushed as he had never been before. He did not abuse his critic. Indeed, he had candour enough to tell Cherry that her editorial experience might have taught her the need of shedding a little life-blood now and then for the public to slake their thirst upon, but this very charitableness almost proved it to be his life-blood.
The intended purchaser had not gone so far but that he could draw back, and this breath of hostility had effectually blown him away. He had broken off his treaty and declined Brynhild.
'I don't blame him,' dejectedly said Edgar; 'all the other critics will yelp in suit, and he would be the laughing-stock of his fellow cotton-lords; but he has done for me. The very sight of "Sold" upon my picture would have saved me.'
'Shall you be worse off than before?' asked Marilda.
'Of course one is, for having been led to make engagements under a deception. But there—never mind. Don't vex yourselves about me. I'm the most miserable dog in the world, and that's all about it.'
'Dear Edgar,' said Cherry, smoothing his hand, 'maybe the opposition paper will take up another line.'
'Not a hope, Cherry. That demolished me long ago, only they were all too merciful to show it to you. This was my last chance.'
He lay back in a sort of collapse of complete depression.