“It was quite generous? No, it wasn’t; but I couldn’t help it. I’ve never seen any of Mrs. Farrell’s work, and if she’s been of use to you, I never want to. Don’t be troubled. You haven’t been disloyal to your friend. Dear me, you should hear how I talk about my friends! Don’t go yet, my dear,” coaxed Mrs. Gilbert, “it’ll be a real charity to stay with me a little while, to-night. I’m fretted. Do you like to draw? Did you enjoy doing Blossom’s portrait?”
“I hardly know about enjoying it. I didn’t think of my own feelings. But—yes, I was glad when I seemed to be getting it right.”
“I don’t quite know what to think of you,” said Mrs. Gilbert, gravely, and the calm-faced young girl returned her absent look with one that claimed a mutual uncertainty. Mrs. Gilbert resumed suddenly with, “Rachel! has anybody ever been so silly as to talk to you about genius?”
Rachel smiled a little, and said evasively that she did not mind such talk.
“That’s right!” said Mrs. Gilbert. “Don’t get that into your head; it’s worse poison than gratitude. I’m always twaddling about it; it’s my besetting sin; but I hope I see the folly and wickedness of it. If you are going to be an artist, think of pictures as hard work; don’t get to supposing that all your little efforts are inspirations. God has got something else to do. Don’t be alarmed at my way of putting things; it doesn’t sound like religion, but it is. If he’s given you a decided talent in this way—and it’s altogether too soon yet for you to be certain—it’s probably because he finds you able to ‘endure hardness,’ as Paul says, to work and to be consoled and occupied by working. After all, my dear, it’s like every other thing here below; it’s only a kind of toy; and you mustn’t let it be your whole life; don’t be selfishly devoted to it. Sometimes it seems to me that the Lord must smile to see how seriously and rapaciously we take things. I can look back and see how balls and parties were once my toys, and my engagement was only a precious plaything! When I got married, what a toy that was! A new husband—just think of it! What an amusement for a young girl! And my first house, how I played with it, and petted it, and made it pretty, and adored it! When my health gave way, it all changed, but I had my toys still. I have had doctors of every age and sex for dolls. I’ve played with every school of medicine; just now I’ve a headache pill that I idolize; not that it keeps me from having the headache. The main thing, as I said, is not to be selfish with your toys. I would share my pills with my worst enemy.”
Mrs. Gilbert seemed to enjoy the gravity with which the girl listened, and to be as well satisfied as if she had taken her lightness lightly. Rachel answered what had been said, so far as it related to herself, by saying that she had scarcely thought of painting as a profession, and that she did not see how she could afford to study it. But she presumed that if it were meant she should, a way would be found for her to help herself.
“But have you no ambition to distinguish yourself?” asked Mrs. Gilbert, in some surprise at her coldness.
“I do not know as I have,” answered the girl. “If I was sure I could make a living by painting, I should like it better than anything else; but unless I took portraits, I don’t suppose I could make it pay, and I don’t think I could paint likenesses of people.”
“Well, I’m glad you have been thinking it over so soberly, for your own sake, Rachel. I suppose you didn’t get these ideas from Mrs. Farrell?” asked Mrs. Gilbert.
“Oh no! she’s very hopeful, and thinks I should succeed at once.”