Malcolm did as he was told, and walked straight up to the Temple of Isis, in which the painter had now long been at work on the goddess. He recognised his sister at once, but a sudden pinch of prudence checked the exclamation that had almost burst from his lips. “What a beautiful picture!” he said. “What does it mean?-- Surely it is Hermione coming to life, and Leontes dying of joy! But no; that would not fit. They are both too young, and----” “You read Shakspere, I see,” said Lenorme, “as well as Epictetus.” “I do--a good deal,” answered Malcolm. “But please tell me what you painted this for.” Then Lenorme told him the parable of Novalis, and Malcolm saw what the poet meant. He stood staring at the picture, and Lenorme sat working away, but a little anxious--he hardly knew why: had he bethought himself he would have put the picture out of sight before Malcolm came. “You wouldn’t be offended if I made a remark, would you, Mr Lenorme?” said Malcolm at length. “Certainly not,” replied Lenorme, something afraid nevertheless of what might be coming. “I don’t know whether I can express what I mean,” said Malcolm, “but I’ll try. I could do it better in Scotch, I believe, but then you wouldn’t understand me.” “I think I should,” said Lenorme. “I spent six months in Edinburgh once.” “Ow ay! but ye see they dinna thraw the words there jist the same gait they du at Portlossie. Na, na! I maunna attemp’ it.” “Hold, hold!” cried Lenorme. “I want to have your criticism. I don’t understand a word you are saying. You must make the best you can of the English.” “I was only telling you in Scotch that I wouldn’t try the Scotch,” returned Malcolm. “Now I will try the English.--In the first place, then--but really it’s very presumptuous of me, Mr Lenorme; and it may be that I am blind to something in the picture.----” “Go on,” said Lenorme impatiently. “Don’t you think then, that one of the first things you would look for in a goddess would be--what shall I call it?--an air of mystery?” “That was so much involved in the very idea of Isis, in her especially, that they said she was always veiled, and no man had ever seen her face.” “That would greatly interfere with my notion of mystery,” said Malcolm. “There must be revelation before mystery. I take it that mystery is what lies behind revelation; that which as yet revelation has not reached. You must see something--a part of something, before you can feel any sense of mystery about it. The Isis for ever veiled is the absolutely Unknown, not the Mysterious.” “But, you observe, the idea of the parable is different. According to that, Isis is for ever unveiling, that is, revealing herself, in her works, chiefly in the women she creates, and then chiefly in each of them to the man who loves her.” “I see what you mean well enough; but not the less she remains the goddess, does she not?” “Surely she does.” “And can a goddess ever reveal all she is and has?” “Never.”