England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
He seemed to do this so neatly, and was so nimble about it, that the
halfpence came flying in.
"Thanks, generous public, thanks!" said the professor. "You will
stimulate me to further exertions. My name will be found in the list of
British Painters yet. I shall do better than this, with encouragement. I
shall indeed."
"You never can do better than that bunch of grapes," said Henrietta. "Oh,
Thomas, them grapes!"
"Not better than _that_, lady? I hope for the time when I shall paint
anything but your own bright eyes and lips equal to life."
"(Thomas, did you ever?) But it must take a long time, sir," said
Henrietta, blushing, "to paint equal to that."
"I was prenticed to it, miss," said the young man, smartly touching up
the composition--"prenticed to it in the caves of Spain and Portingale,
ever so long and two year over."
There was a laugh from the crowd; and a new man who had worked himself in
next me, said, "He's a smart chap, too; ain't he?"
"And what a eye!" exclaimed Henrietta softly.
"Ah! He need have a eye," said the man.
"Ah! He just need," was murmured among the crowd.
"He couldn't come that 'ere burning mountain without a eye," said the
man. He had got himself accepted as an authority, somehow, and everybody
looked at his finger as it pointed out Vesuvius. "To come that effect in
a general illumination would require a eye; but to come it with two
dips--why, it's enough to blind him!"
That impostor, pretending not to have heard what was said, now winked to
any extent with both eyes at once, as if the strain upon his sight was
too much, and threw back his long hair--it was very long--as if to cool
his fevered brow. I was watching him doing it, when Henrietta suddenly
whispered, "Oh, Thomas, how horrid you look!" and pulled me out by the
arm.
Remembering Mr. Click's words, I was confused when I retorted, "What do
you mean by horrid?"
"Oh gracious! Why, you looked," said Henrietta, "as if you would have
his blood."
I was going to answer, "So I would, for twopence--from his nose," when I
checked myself and remained silent.
We returned home in silence. Every step of the way, the softer
sentiments that had flowed, ebbed twenty mile an hour. Adapting my
conduct to the ebbing, as I had done to the flowing, I let my arm drop
limp, so as she could scarcely keep hold of it, and I wished her such a
cold good-night at parting, that I keep within the bounds of truth when I
characterise it as a Rasper.
In the course of the next day I received the following document:
"Henrietta informs Thomas that my eyes are open to you. I must ever
wish you well, but walking and us is separated by an unfarmable abyss.
One so malignant to superiority--Oh that look at him!--can never never
conduct
HENRIETTA
P.S.--To the altar."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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