“No; I only care for landscape as a background for humanity. I want to paint genre pictures in water-colour--women and children--beautiful women amidst beautiful surroundings--picturesque poverty--interesting bits of daily life. Mrs. Allingham is the ideal after which I strive, but I am only at the bottom of the ladder. It is a long climb to the top; but one does not mind that in a profession where labour is delight.” “You are fond of art, then?” said Isola, watching the earnest face of the speaker. “Fond of it! Why, I live for it! The dream of my life from the time I was seven years old has been one long dream of the bliss that was to be mine when I could feel myself able to paint. I have toiled with all my might. Martin disliked the idea of my being an Academy student--poor, foolish, ignorant Martin--so I have been obliged to plod on at St. John’s Wood, without hope of prizes or medals; but on the whole I have been very lucky, for I have made friends among the Academicians. They are very kind to any student who seems in rightdown earnest; and they have been ever so good to me. I hope, Martin, you will find some day that I am something better than an amateur,” she concluded, resting her two hands caressingly upon her brother’s shoulder. “My dearest, I have not the least doubt you will astonish me. I am very ignorant of everything connected with art. I set my face against the Academy because I thought the training and the life would be too public for my sister.” “As if Burlington House were any more public than that big school at St. John’s Wood, my dear illogical brother: and yet we women are the only people who are said to be wanting in the logical faculty.”