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Updated: May 3, 2025
The advance was very slow, and soon the provisions gave out. It began to seem probable that the whole expedition would perish in the mountains. Sam called a council of war, and, at Keene's suggestion, picked out the two most vigorous privates, who went ahead bearing the alleged Baluna letter and another from Gomaldo's renegade friend, who was nominally in command, asking for speedy succor.
But it never took a liberty with a human face or a horse's head; and whenever it went a little astray you could always read between the lines and know exactly what it meant. There is no difficulty in reading between Keene's lines; every one of them has its unmistakable definite intimation; every one is the right line in the right place!
I find in my notes mention of other drawings quite as wonderful as those I have spoken of, but space only remains to give some hint of Keene's place among draughtsmen.
Every one who knows Keene's work can imagine how the huge well-fed figure was drawn, and how the coat wrinkled across the back, and how the bourgeois whiskers were indicated. This obscene drawing is matched by many equally odious.
"We did not know it last night at the banquet, Senora; nor would we have known it but for this treason and division in your own party." A sudden light flashed upon Miss Keene's mind. She now comprehended the advances of Dona Isabel.
I fear that Major Keene's pernicious example is indeed contagious, and that his evil communications have corrupted many alas! too many." He rounded off the period with a ponderous professional sigh. Miss Tresilyan was leaning back in her arm-chair: as the wood-fire sprang up brightly and sank again suddenly, her great deep eyes seemed to flash back the fitful gleams.
The momentary excitement made her look so handsome that Keene's glance could not withhold admiration; but there was no sympathy in it, any more than in his cold, quiet tones. "No, don't despise her," he said. "She could scarcely be expected to wait for a corporal in the Scottish regiment.
This, it will perhaps be admitted, is not very good art-criticism. Though in justice to its author it must be said that he did not wish to be regarded as Keene's critic as well as biographer. An artist does not argue with himself that he will shun the representation of one particular side of life. He simply leaves it alone because he cannot help it; it does not attract him.
Very often the thought forced itself upon Keene's mind, "If I were to weary of her too?" and made him pause before he urged Cecil to the step that must have linked him to her fate forever. Under other circumstances his patience might have held out still longer; but there were numberless difficulties and obstacles in the way of their meeting, and the perpetual constraint fretted Royston sorely.
The answer to this question involved the simple story of Miss Keene's life, which she gave with naive detail. She told him of her early childhood, and the brother who was only an indistinct memory; of her school days, and her friendships up to the moment of her first step into the great world that was so strangely arrested at Todos Santos.
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