London (England) -- Fiction; Middle class women -- Fiction; Women -- Employment -- Fiction
Gertrude's prophetic vision of vistas of studio work proved, for the
next few days at least, to have been no baseless fabric of the fancy.
The two artists at York Place kept them so busy over models, sketches,
and arrangements of drapery, that the girls' hands were full from
morning till night. Of course this did not last, but Frank was so full
of suggestions for them, so genuinely struck with the quality of their
work, so anxious to recommend them to his comrades in art, that their
spirits rose high, and hope, which for a time had almost failed them,
arose, like a giant refreshed, in their breasts.
In all simplicity and respect, the young Cornishman took a deep and
unconcealed interest in the photographic firm, and expected, on his
part, a certain amount of interest to be taken in his own work.
Frank, as Conny had said, worked chiefly in black and white. He was
engaged, at present, in illustrating a serial story for _The Woodcut_,
but he had time on his hands for a great deal more work, time which he
employed in painting pictures which the public refused to buy, although
the committees were often willing to exhibit them.
"If they would only send me out to that wretched little war," he said.
"There is nothing like having been a special artist for getting a man on
with the pictorial editors."
There is nothing like the salt of healthy objective interests for
keeping the moral nature sound. Before the sense of mutual honesty, the
little barriers of prudishness which both sides had thought fit in the
first instance to raise, fell silently between the young people, never
again to be lifted up.
For good or evil, these waifs on the great stream of London life had
drifted together; how long the current should continue thus to bear them
side by side--how long, indeed, they should float on the surface of the
stream at all, was a question with which, for the time being, they did
not very much trouble themselves.
No one quite knew how it came about, but before a month had gone by, it
became the most natural thing in the world for Frank to drop in upon
them at unexpected hours, to share their simple meals, to ask and give
advice about their respective work.
Fanny had accepted the situation with astonishing calmness. Prudish to
the verge of insanity with regard to herself, she had grown to look upon
her strong-minded sisters as creatures emancipated from the ordinary
conventions of their sex, as far removed from the advantages and
disadvantages of gallantry as the withered hag who swept the crossing
near Baker Street Station.
Perhaps, too, she found life at this period a little dull, and welcomed,
on her own account, a new and pleasant social element in the person of
Frank Jermyn; however it may be, Fanny gave no trouble, and Gertrude's
lurking scruples slept in peace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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