“You are an artist, Eddy tells us,” he said, presently; “well, I think certain bits of our Cathedral must be an inspiration to any artist. Do you know Wilson Gavin’s studies of details of Ely? Very exquisite and delicate work.”
Jane thought so too.
“Poor Gavin,” the Dean added, more gravely; “we used to see something of him when he came down to Ely, five or six years ago. It’s an extraordinary thing that he could do work like that, so marvellously pure and delicate, and full, apparently of such reverent love of beauty—and at the same time lead the life he has led since, and I suppose is leading now.”
Jane looked puzzled.
The Dean said, “Ah, of course, you don’t know him. But one hears sad stories....”
“I know Mr. Gavin a little,” said Jane. “I always like him very much.”
The Dean thought her either not nearly particular enough, or too ignorant to be credible. She obviously either had never heard, had quite forgotten, or didn’t mind, the sad stories. He hoped for the best, and dropped the subject. He couldn’t well say straight out, before Miss Dawn and Daphne, that he had heard that Mr. Gavin had eloped with someone else’s wife.
It was perhaps for the best that Eddy and Arnold and Eileen arrived at this moment.
At a glance the Olivers saw that Mrs. Le Moine was different from Miss Dawn. She was charmingly dressed. She had a blue travelling-coat, grey furs, deep blue eyes under black brows, and an engaging smile. Certainly “rather beautiful,” as Eddy had said to Daphne, and of a charm that they all felt, but especially the Dean.
Mrs. Oliver, catching Eddy’s eye as he introduced her, saw that he was proud of this one among his visitors. She knew the look, radiant, half shy, the look of a nice child introducing an admired school friend to his people, sure they will get on, thinking how jolly for both of them to know each other. The less nice child has a different look, mistrustful, nervous, anxious, lest his people should disgrace themselves....