The Last Chronicle of Barset [134]
door, and I do not doubt that it will be Clara. She said she would be here.'
'And you have told her about the picture?'
'Yes; I have told her. She said that it would be impossible, and that her mother would not allow it. Here she is.' Then Miss Van Siever was shown into the room, and Dalrymple perceived that she was a girl the peculiarity of whose complexion bore daylight better even than candlelight. There was something in her countenance which seemed to declare that she could bear any light to which it might be subjected, without flinching from it. And her bonnet, which was very plain, and her simple brown morning gown, suited her well. She was one who required none of the circumstances of studied dress to carry off aught in her own appearance. She could look her best when other women look their worst, and could dare to be seen at all times. Dalrymple, with an artist's eye, saw this at once, and immediately confessed to himself that there was something great about her. He could not deny her beauty. But there was ever present to him that look of hardness which had struck him when he first saw her. He could not but fancy that though at times she might be playful, and allow the fur of her coat to be stroked with good-humour--she would be a dangerous plaything, using her claws unpleasantly when the good-humour should have passed away. But not the less was she beautiful, and--beyond that and better than that, for his purpose--she was picturesque.
'Clara,' said Mrs Broughton, 'here is this mad painter, and he says that he will have you on his canvas either with your will or without it.'
'Even if he could do that, I am sure he would not,' said Miss Van Siever.
'To prove to you that I can, I think I need only show you the sketch,' said Dalrymple, taking the drawing out of his pocket. 'As regards the face, I know it so well by heart already, that I feel certain I could produce a likeness without even a sitting. What do you think of it, Mrs Broughton?'
'It is clever,' said she, looking at it with all the enthusiasm which women are able to throw into their eyes on such occasions; 'very clever. The subject would just suit her. I have never doubted that.'
'Eames says that it is confused,' said the artist.
'I don't see that at all,' said Mrs Broughton.
'Of course a sketch must be rough. This one has been rubbed about and altered--but I think there is something in it.'
'An immense deal,' said Mrs Broughton. 'Don't you think so, Clara?'
'I am not a judge.'
'But you can see the woman's fixed purpose; and her stealthiness as well;--and the man sleeps like a log. What is that dim outline?'
'Nothing in particular,' said Dalrymple. But the dim outline was intended to represent Mrs Van Siever.
'It is very good--unquestionably good,' said Mrs Dobbs Broughton. 'I do not for a moment doubt that you will make a great picture of it. It is just the subject for you, Conway; so much imagination, and yet such a scope for portraiture. It would be full of action, and yet such perfect repose. And the lights and shadows would be exactly in your line. I can see at a glance how you would manage the light in the tent, and bring it down just on the nail. And then the pose of the woman would be so good, so much strength, and yet such grace! You should have the bowl he drank the milk out of, so as to tell the whole story. No painter living tells a story so well as you do, Conway.' Conway Dalrymple knew that the woman was talking nonsense to him, and yet he liked it, and liked her for talking it.
'But Mr Dalrymple can paint his Sisera without making me Jael,' said Miss Van Siever.
'Of course he can,' said Mrs Broughton.
'But I never will,' said the artist. 'I conceived the subject as connected with you, and I will never disjoin the two ideas.'
'I think it no compliment, I can assure you,' said Miss Van Siever.
'And none was intended. But you may observe that artists in all ages have sought for higher types of models in painting women who have been violent or criminal, than have sufficed for them in
'And you have told her about the picture?'
'Yes; I have told her. She said that it would be impossible, and that her mother would not allow it. Here she is.' Then Miss Van Siever was shown into the room, and Dalrymple perceived that she was a girl the peculiarity of whose complexion bore daylight better even than candlelight. There was something in her countenance which seemed to declare that she could bear any light to which it might be subjected, without flinching from it. And her bonnet, which was very plain, and her simple brown morning gown, suited her well. She was one who required none of the circumstances of studied dress to carry off aught in her own appearance. She could look her best when other women look their worst, and could dare to be seen at all times. Dalrymple, with an artist's eye, saw this at once, and immediately confessed to himself that there was something great about her. He could not deny her beauty. But there was ever present to him that look of hardness which had struck him when he first saw her. He could not but fancy that though at times she might be playful, and allow the fur of her coat to be stroked with good-humour--she would be a dangerous plaything, using her claws unpleasantly when the good-humour should have passed away. But not the less was she beautiful, and--beyond that and better than that, for his purpose--she was picturesque.
'Clara,' said Mrs Broughton, 'here is this mad painter, and he says that he will have you on his canvas either with your will or without it.'
'Even if he could do that, I am sure he would not,' said Miss Van Siever.
'To prove to you that I can, I think I need only show you the sketch,' said Dalrymple, taking the drawing out of his pocket. 'As regards the face, I know it so well by heart already, that I feel certain I could produce a likeness without even a sitting. What do you think of it, Mrs Broughton?'
'It is clever,' said she, looking at it with all the enthusiasm which women are able to throw into their eyes on such occasions; 'very clever. The subject would just suit her. I have never doubted that.'
'Eames says that it is confused,' said the artist.
'I don't see that at all,' said Mrs Broughton.
'Of course a sketch must be rough. This one has been rubbed about and altered--but I think there is something in it.'
'An immense deal,' said Mrs Broughton. 'Don't you think so, Clara?'
'I am not a judge.'
'But you can see the woman's fixed purpose; and her stealthiness as well;--and the man sleeps like a log. What is that dim outline?'
'Nothing in particular,' said Dalrymple. But the dim outline was intended to represent Mrs Van Siever.
'It is very good--unquestionably good,' said Mrs Dobbs Broughton. 'I do not for a moment doubt that you will make a great picture of it. It is just the subject for you, Conway; so much imagination, and yet such a scope for portraiture. It would be full of action, and yet such perfect repose. And the lights and shadows would be exactly in your line. I can see at a glance how you would manage the light in the tent, and bring it down just on the nail. And then the pose of the woman would be so good, so much strength, and yet such grace! You should have the bowl he drank the milk out of, so as to tell the whole story. No painter living tells a story so well as you do, Conway.' Conway Dalrymple knew that the woman was talking nonsense to him, and yet he liked it, and liked her for talking it.
'But Mr Dalrymple can paint his Sisera without making me Jael,' said Miss Van Siever.
'Of course he can,' said Mrs Broughton.
'But I never will,' said the artist. 'I conceived the subject as connected with you, and I will never disjoin the two ideas.'
'I think it no compliment, I can assure you,' said Miss Van Siever.
'And none was intended. But you may observe that artists in all ages have sought for higher types of models in painting women who have been violent or criminal, than have sufficed for them in