"Have I still a right to do so? Things seem so changed, my lady."
"You will never find me changed while I can help you. I did not send for you, knowing that you would come if it was best for you."
"And yet I came too late!"
"Graham, there are no such words as too late to those who know how to wait. That phrase is only for the impatient, not for the steadfast. But now tell me of yourself, of your work; it is so long since we have seen you."
"Of myself, no! of my work, yes. I have finished my picture; it has gone to Paris. It will now be judged by other men." He did not tell her of his loss, or that he had sent The Lovers in the place of the burned picture.
"May they prove kindly critics."
"No, I do not want that; I do not insist that they shall praise my work; I only question, can they understand it?"
"But that is the least of it all, you have sometimes said."
"Ah! Madonna, I have been wrong. What use is there for me to speak if there be no one to hear? If they do not understand, the fault must lie in me. I must learn to speak the broad language of humanity. I cannot ask men to puzzle themselves with my small vernacular." The man sighed deeply, and his friend noticed that he was paler and thinner than she had last seen him.
"You have been over-working, Graham; you lead an unnatural life when you are in town, now that your people are away. Why not come back to the tower again?"