"But she was very good to me," said Alice, softly.
"Yes," said her brother, "and for that, too, she shall be forgiven everything by the poor artist, whom you fed when he was a surly, inconsiderate old bear."
"I'm very proud of my Lion!" exclaimed Alice, lovingly. "See," she added, "I have brought out with us some London papers which arrived just as we were leaving our hotel. I want you to see what is said of your Academy pictures, especially of 'Ganymede.' The likeness of the girl," she added, "is so marvellously like Doris, that I expect her husband will be wanting to buy it."
"Don't!" said Norman, walking a little way apart, in order that she might not see his face.
Presently he returned to her without a shadow on his fine expressive countenance.
"I hope you are observing the beauty of all this Rhine scenery," he said, with a smile. "It ought to appeal to the poetry in your nature."
"Poetry! Poetry in my nature!" exclaimed Alice. "Why, Norman, I always thought that you considered me so very prosaic and matter-of-fact."
"On the contrary," said her brother. "It is I who have been so often matter-of-fact; you have always been steeped in love, so much so, in fact, that you have idealised and nursed illusions for the sake of your beloved ones. Don't you know--
Poets are all who love, who feel great truths
And tell them, and the truth of truths is love.
Yes," continued Norman, humbly, "you are before me, Alice, in the great race, because through your life--as through Doris's--the golden thread of Love leads you and dominates your actions. Not the mere lover's love for one, but a noble enthusiasm and love for all who are near and dear to you."