'To love somebody so much nobler than herself. How gentle he is in his earnestness!'
'Don't be hard upon her,' said Rollo. 'Are you sure you wouldn't do so in her place?'
'No,—' she said, looking gravely up at him.
'She knew it was death to go without that white handkerchief.'
'But,' said Primrose softly, 'wouldn't you rather have him die true, than live dishonoured?'
'I think I should have tried,' said Wych Hazel,—'knowing I should fail. And then I should have thrown away my own favour, and gone with him wherever he went.'
'He wouldn't have let you do that either,' said Rollo.
'Then he would not have loved me as I loved him,' said the girl, very decidedly.
'He'd have been a pretty fellow!' said Rollo, as he turned the next print. It was a contrast to the St. Bartholomew; a Madonna and child, from Fra Bartholomeo, at which they were all content to look silently. Rollo began to talk, then, instead of asking questions, and made himself very interesting. So much he knew of art matters, so many a story and legend he could tell about the masters, and so well he could help the less initiated to enjoy and understand the work. So letting himself out in a sort of play-fashion, the portfolio proved the nucleus of a delightful hour's entertainment. At the end of that time a turn was given to things by the coming in of an old black woman with a very high, coloured turban on her head and a teakettle and a chafing dish of coals in her hands. Rollo shut up his portfolio.
'What is your view, practically, of things at present, Miss
Kennedy?'