"I cannot," said Dolly. "It is not the lovely face, Mr. Babbage; it is thought and feeling, love and purity, and majesty—but the majesty of a person who has no thought of herself."
Dolly could not get out of that one room; she sat before the Raphael, and then stood fixed before the "Notte" or the "Magdalene" of Correggio; and would not come away. Rupert always attended on her, and Mrs. Copley as regularly made progresses through the rooms on Lawrence's arm, till she declared herself tired out. They were much beholden to Lawrence and his good offices these days, more than they knew; for it was past the season when the gallery was open to the public, and entrance was obtained solely by the influence of St. Leger's mediation and money; how much of the latter they never knew. Lawrence was a very good escort also; his address was pleasant, and his knowledge of men and things sufficient for useful purposes; he knew in general what was what and who was who, and was never at a loss. Rupert followed the party like a faithful dog, ready for service and with no opportunity to show it; Lawrence held the post of leader and manager now, and filled it well. In matters of art, however, I am bound to say, though he could talk more, he knew as little as Rupert himself.
"What is to be done to-morrow?" he asked, in the evening of that second day.
"We haven't got our letters yet," said Mrs. Copley. "I can't see why they don't come."
"So the Green vaults must wait. What else shall we do?"
"Oh," said Dolly, "might we not go to the gallery again?"
"Another day?" cried her mother. "Why, you have been there two whole mornings, child. Ain't that enough?"
"Mother, I could go two months, I think."
"Then you'd catch your death," said Mrs. Copley. "That inner room is very chill now. For my part, I do not want to see another picture again in days and days. My head swims with looking at them. I don't see what you find in the old things."
Dolly could not have told. She sighed, and it was agreed that they would drive about the city and its environs next day; Lawrence assuring them that it was one of the pleasantest towns in Germany. But the next morning early came the letters from Mr. Copley; one to his wife and one to Dolly.