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Wyld thought of his own merry daughters, whom he had left at home, and felt a vague thankfulness that they were not as Olive Rothesay. Tenderness was not in his nature; but in all his intercourse with her, he could not help treating with a sort of reverence the dead merchant's forlorn child.
His Aunt Susan said in a subsequent letter: "I am very glad Mr. Wyld has been to see your pictures, and though you may be a little dissatisfied that your present works will be 'dirt cheap, still the cheering opinion of them will give you great courage, I hope. I shall certainly go to see them as soon as they get to Agnew's." So much for the art department.
Nevertheless, Olive listened mechanically to the wheels: they dashed rapidly on came near stopped. Yes, it must be her father. She flew to the hall door to welcome him. There stood, not her father, but a little hard-featured old man, Mr. Wyld, the family lawyer.
Hamerton saw a great deal of his kind friend, William Wyld, whose advice he was better able to appreciate now that his ideas about art were no longer topographic. He began at this stage of artistic culture to enjoy composition and harmony of color; and though he still thought that his friend's compositions were rather too obviously artificial, he did not remain blind to their merit.
When an oak is being felled "it gives a kind of shriekes or groanes, that may be heard a mile off, as if it were the genius of the oake lamenting. E. Wyld, Esq., hath heard it severall times." The Ojebways "very seldom cut down green or living trees, from the idea that it puts them to pain, and some of their medicine-men profess to have heard the wailing of the trees under the axe."
However, by mere conversation, Wyld has communicated to me a great deal of this knowledge; and with regard to the practical advantages of painting like him they would probably not have ensured me any better commercial success, as his style of painting has now for a long time been completely out of fashion.
"Now, dear mamma," she whispered, when Mrs. Rothesay was a little composed, "we must answer the letter at once. What shall we say!" "Nothing! That cruel man deserves no reply at all." "Mamma!" cried Olive, somewhat reproachfully. "Whatever he may be, we are evidently his debtors. Even Mr. Wyld admits this, you see. We must not forget justice and honour my poor fathers honour." "No no!
"I have scotched the slave-trade, and Wyld of Jeddah says that scarcely any slaves pass over, and that the people of Jeddah are disgusted. It is, however, only scotched. I am blockading all roads to the slave districts, and I expect to make the slave-dealers now in revolt give in, for they must be nearly out of stores. I have indeed a very heavy task, for I have to do everything myself.
Save me from the horrible thought, now haunting me evermore, that the being who owes me life may one day heap curses on her father's name! "Herewith enclosed you will find instructions respecting an annuity I wish paid to to the woman. It was placed in 's bank by Mr. Wyld, whom, however, I deceived concerning it I am now old enough in the school of hypocrisy.
You know, my dear Miss Rothesay, that your father was speechless from the moment of his seizure. But my wife, who never quitted him ah! I assure you she was a devoted nurse to him, was Mrs. Wyld." "I thank her deeply, as she knows."
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