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She now shrank back against this wall, as if she were trying to get through it. The edge of the portrait's frame tilted her hat out of the straight, but in this supreme moment she did not even notice it. "Er how do you do?" she said. If she had not been an exceedingly pretty girl, one would have said that she spoke squeakily.
Isobel's bird-like eyes gleamed maliciously. "They want to hear Nan play," she persisted. "And to see me paint?" he suggested ironically. She ignored his retort and, turning to Nan, appealed to her directly. "Shan't you come?" she asked bluntly. "Well, if Maryon wants me to sit for him " Nan began hesitatingly. "The sooner the portrait's begun, the sooner it will be finished," interposed Rooke.
In either case she could sum it up, her eyes lifted once more to the portrait's steady eyes, with, "Poor, wonderful papa." He was gone, the dear, the wonderful one, and she was left single-handed to carry on his work. What this work was loomed largely, though vaguely, for her.
"I'll take my oath as to the portrait's being a devilish good likeness," added Sir Philip; and as he spoke, he turned to Miss Portman: "Miss Portman has it! damme, Miss Portman has him!" Belinda hastily withdrew her eyes from the picture at which she was looking. "A most beautiful creature!" exclaimed Lady Delacour.
"If Tilda doesn't mind " The boy hesitated, with a glance over his shoulder. "We'll consult the lady when the portrait's finished. If she recognises you, I'll destroy the canvas; and I can't say fairer than that . . . No, I shan't regret it. We'll call it an offering to the gods . . . And now," pursued the young man, flinging in a charcoal outline in fiery haste, "we'll consider the brakes open."
Wilding to himself, as his eyes enthusiastically followed the light to the portrait's face, "I hang up here, in order that visitors may admire my mother in the bloom of her youth and beauty. My mother at fifty I hang in the seclusion of my own chamber, as a remembrance sacred to me. O! It's you, Jarvis!" These latter words he addressed to a clerk who had tapped at the door, and now looked in.
But before you go, I do think you might tell me my portrait's a pretty good thing." And she did not say any more. The written part of the examination lasted four days; and then there was an interval of one day in which the harassed and harried aspirants might restore themselves for the two days' ordeal of the viva voce. George had continued to be well satisfied with his work up to the interval.
I know how fascinating solitude on this balcony can be." She smiled again, but gravely with a hint of the portrait's mystery. "Solitude is an excellent thing, monsieur, but to-night I think I need the solace of a fellow-being. Will you not stay and keep me company?" He looked at the smiling lips, the serious, searching eyes, and he spoke his thoughts impulsively.
Manfred in his distraction released Isabella, who had not seen the portrait's movement, and who made towards the door. The spectre marched sedately, but dejectedly, into a chamber on the right hand. Manfred would have followed; but the door was clapped to with violence, nor could he with all his force re-open it.
"Oh, if a 'smart' portrait's all you want!" "I want what the others want," she answered, frowning and pouting a little. She was already beginning to resent in Ralph the slightest sign of resistance to her pleasure; and her resentment took the form a familiar one in Apex courtships of turning on him, in the next entr'acte, a deliberately averted shoulder.
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