I could not help smiling at her tone, it was so unaffectedly satisfied.
"I should think he will, Miss Lawrence."
"I don't mean as to the merits of the picture, but because he does not know it is—what shall I say?—historical, biographical, allegorical."
"You mean hieroglyphic?"
"Exactly."
"But he will not be likely to say anything about that part of it, will he? Is he not too modest or too proud?"
"Why, one never can know what he can say or do. I should not wonder the least in the world if he took the brushes up and put the eyes in open."
I laughed. "Does he paint, though?"
"Between ourselves, Mr. Auchester, there is nothing he cannot do,—no accomplishment in which he does not excel. He can paint, can design, can model, can harmonize all languages into a language of his own. All mysteries, all knowledge, all wisdom, we know too well,—too well, indeed!—dwell with him, are of him. I am always afraid when I consider these things. What a blessing to us and to all men if he would only marry! We should keep him a little longer then."
"Do you think so? I am fearful it would make no real difference. There is a point where all sympathy ceases."