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Updated: May 16, 2025
May I ask, in the first place, who is the friend?" Sylvester picked up the open brief which lay before him on the table, and folded it scrupulously. "Philip Rainham," he answered, and then shot a quick glance at Oswyn. "Rainham?" echoed the other with an air suggestive at once of surprise and relief, as if, perhaps, he had been expecting to hear another name.
I could have painted pictures like Lightmark if I had cared, you know, but I did not care!" "And yet he has great facility," said Rainham tentatively. "He has more," said Oswyn bitterly, "or, at least, he had genius. And he has deliberately chosen to go the wrong way, to be conventional. He can't plead 'invincible ignorance' like the others; he ought to know better.
"I am going to send him this letter," said Oswyn briefly, folding it up and bestowing it in the envelope which Mr. Furnival had given him. "Thanks, no, I needn't trouble you to have it posted: I prefer to leave it at Mr. Sylvester's chambers myself." "He was a great friend of the late Mr. Rainham, as, of course, you know," said the lawyer, as they parted at the door. "Mr.
The man who made frames for Oswyn knew him of old as an exacting customer and hard to please, who insisted on a rigid adherence to his own designs, and was quick to detect inferior workmanship or material; but during the last few days he had been driven almost to rebellion by the painter's exigencies; never had such calls been made upon him for flawless glass, and delicately varied shades of gold and silver; never had artist's eye been so ruthless in the condemnation of imperfect mitres and superfluous plaster.
"Your glass is empty, and we are about ready for our coffee. What will you take?" Oswyn repeated his order, smiling still a little remotely, as he let the water trickle down from a scientific height to his glass, whipping the crystal green of its contents into a nebulous yellow. Rainham, who had listened to the little passage of arms in silence, felt troubled, uneasy.
"But you're not going?" said Rainham, rising from his seat with a constraining gesture; "why, don't you remember we were going to dine together? Dick will stay too, n'est ce pas? It will be like old times. Mrs. Bullen has been preparing quite a feast, I assure you!" Oswyn paused irresolutely. "Don't let me drive you away," said Dick. "In any case I'm going myself in a few minutes.
Rainham and Lightmark were inseparable; so were Rainham and Oswyn. And all the time Lightmark and Oswyn were about as friendly as the toad and the harrow. Sounds like Euclid, doesn't it? Things equal to the same thing, and quite unequal to one another." "Yes," assented McAllister, thoughtfully stroking his reddish beard.
"I fear there has been no real improvement; the patient is steadily losing strength. Only he insists on seeing you; and when they are like that, one must give them what they want. I must beg you to excite him as little as possible." Oswyn bowed a dreary assent, and followed her up the obscure staircase, which creaked sullenly beneath his tread.
Well, it's a fine thing, and just as clever as But, mind you, I'm not prepared to say that Oswyn wouldn't have made something better out of it." "Yes," said Rainham slowly, with the chill of the old misgiving about his heart, as he remembered the stormy encounter at the dock, with the haunting shadow of doubt in his mind, laboriously dismissed as an offence against his loyalty.
Oswyn had seated himself on a low chair by the bed; he kept his head averted, as does a priest who hears confessions; and he gazed with absent eyes at the fire which burned sulkily, at the row of medicine-bottles on the mantelpiece, at all the dreary paraphernalia of a sick-room.
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