"Yes. And they mean a great deal; all that was in the painter's mind."
"I don't care a red cent how a man fancies somebody looked. I'd like the real thing, if I could get it. I'd go some ways to see how the mother of Christ did look; but you say that ain't it?"
"No," said Dolly, smiling.
Rupert surveyed the great picture again.
"Don't you think it is beautiful, Rupert?" Dolly pursued, curious to know what went on in his thoughts.
"I've seen as handsome faces—and handsomer," he said slowly; "and I like flesh and blood a long sight better than a painting, anyhow."
"Handsome?" said Dolly. "Oh, it is not that—it is so much more!"——
"What is it, Miss Dolly?" said Lawrence, just then coming up behind her. "I should like to hear your criticism. Do put it in words."
"That's not easy; and it is not criticism. But I'll tell you how it seems to me; as the painting, not of anybody's features, but of somebody's nature, spirit. It is a painting of the spiritual character."
"Mental traits can be expressed in words, though," said Lawrence. "You'll go on, I hope?"