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I do not think there is a spark of sentiment in your composition." "Alas, that I should be so misjudged. But wait until your friend Bovyer shows you my tears." Mrs. Flaxman generally looked a trifle worried when Mr. Winthrop and I got into conversation. This night, when I wanted every one to be happy, I held my troublesome tongue in check, and made no further reply to my guardian's badinage.
At twenty-five, when he was still 'Citizen Flaxman' to his college friends, and in the first fervors of a poetic defiance of prejudice and convention, he had married a gamekeeper's pretty daughter. She had died with her child died, almost, poor thing! of happiness and excitement of the over-greatness of Heaven's boon to her.
Catherine accepted the reproach mutely as one little smart the more. However, what had she known? She had seen nothing unusual of late, nothing to make her think a crisis was approaching. Nay, she had flattered herself that Mr. Flaxman, whom she liked, was gaining ground. Meanwhile Robert stood pondering anxiously what could be done. Could anything be done?
The face was always melancholy, always pale, but to-night it was ghastly, and from the whiteness of cheek and brow, the eyes, the jet black hair stood out in intense and disagreeable relief. She would have remarked on it to Rose, but that Rose's attention was claimed by the young thought-reader, Mr. Denman, whom Mr. Flaxman had brought up. Mr.
He found out Flaxman when a youth, and while he liberally nurtured his genius drew from him a large number of beautiful designs for his pottery and porcelain; converting them by his manufacture into objects of taste and excellence, and thus making them instrumental in the diffusion of classical art amongst the people.
"Milly, my beauty!" she cried despairingly, "I'm trying to be kind to you and tell you everything you want to know. Your name is Mildred Flaxman and you used to live in Oxford here, but now all your people have gone to Australia because your father's got a deanery there." "Have they left me here, mad and by myself?" asked Milly; "have I no one to look after me, no one to give me a home?"
Flaxman, brother to a pretty little neighbor of ours in Surrey Lady Helen Varley and nephew to Lady Charlotte. I have not seen him here before; but I think the girls like him. 'Is he the Flaxman who got the mathematical prize at Berlin last year? 'Yes, I believe so. A striking person altogether. He is enormously rich, Lady Helen tells me, in spite of an elder brother.
A letter written to Flaxman, soon after his arrival at Felpham, is so characteristic that we cannot refrain from transcribing it: "DEAR SCULPTOR OF ETERNITY, We are safe arrived at our cottage, which is more beautiful than I thought it, and more convenient.
When Flaxman went over to Bedford Square in the afternoon, he went like a man going himself to execution. In the hall he met Catherine. 'You have seen Dr. Edmondson? she asked, pale and still, except for a little nervous quivering of the lip. He stooped and kissed her hand. 'Yes. He says he goes with you to Algiers. I will come after if you will have me. The climate may do wonders.
"Isn't it hard to understand how anybody can do such a thing as that?" she said, with her patient sigh the sigh of an angel grieving over the perversity of men. Flaxman dropped on the sofa beside her. "You feel with me, that it is a mere clumsy attempt to injure Meynell, in the interests of the campaign against him?" he asked her, eagerly.
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