"It doesn't matter at all. You did no damage."
"But I nearly knocked over your picture!"
"A miss is as good as a mile!"
"Why, it's Miss Lindsay!" exclaimed Claudia, coming up. "I thought you were still in Scotland."
"I've been back a week and am quite settled down again at Porthkeverne, and hope to stay here all the winter. Tell your father I'm coming up to see his pictures one day. I hear he's painting in pastel now. I've been going in for tempera. How are the babies? And Madox? He's a special friend of mine. I've brought them a box of real shortbread from Edinburgh. Yes, I'm making a sketch1 of this piece of the common. It appeals to me in the sunset."
"What a charming lady! Who is she?" whispered Lorraine as their party passed on.
"She's an artist—Miss Lindsay. We knew her in London, and it was she who advised Father to come and live at Porthkeverne. I'm glad she did, for we all like it just heaps better than Kensington."
"Does she live here?"
[90]"She has rooms in the town and a studio down by the harbour, but she goes about to a great many places sketching2. You'd love her pictures."
"I wish I could see them."
"Perhaps she'd let me take you some day to her studio."
"Oh! do you think she really would? Do you know I've never been inside a studio!"
Claudia laughed.
"You wouldn't want to if you'd had to sit as a model as often as I have! Would she, Morland?"
"Rather not. As a family I reckon we're fed up with studios," returned Morland. "Thank goodness I'm beyond the 'Bubbles' stage of beauty. It's Madox's turn for that!"
"Don't congratulate yourself too soon. I heard Father say the other day that you'd make an absolutely perfect study for 'Sir Galahad', and that Violet must tell Lizzie to clean that suit of armour3, for he meant to begin it as soon as he'd finished 'Endymion'."
"Oh, strafe Sir Galahad!" groaned4 Morland. "The armour's the most beastly uncomfortable hot stuff to wear you can imagine. I wish I had a turned-up nose and freckles5."
Lorraine, living in a modern unromantic house in the residents' suburbs of Porthkeverne, had hitherto had little or no acquaintance with the artist population of the town. They mostly lived in the old quarter, and had studios close to the harbour, their colony being centred round the Arts Club in the Guildhall. She had often watched [91]them painting at their easels in the narrow picturesque7 streets, and had longed for a more intimate acquaintance. Their delightful8 Bohemian way of life had a fascination9 for her. She sometimes wished her father were an artist instead of a lawyer. It was so much more romantic to paint pictures than to make people's wills or transfer their property.
"Dad's utterly10 practical," she confided11 to Claudia. "He's busy all day at the office, and he prides himself on not being sentimental12. He's about as artistic13 as that cow!"
"I'd swop dads with you," said Claudia. "I wish mine went to an office every day instead of to his studio."
"You won't forget about Miss Lindsay?"
"No, I'll try to take you, if you're really so keen about going."
Claudia was as good as her word, and one day came to school armed with a special invitation for herself and Lorraine. The latter, much excited, begged permission at home to accept.
"I think she's lovely, Mummie! Miss Lindsay, I mean. And I've never seen a studio, and Claudia says I'll adore her pictures, so you will let me go, won't you?"
"If it won't interfere14 with your home lessons and practising. It's extremely kind of her to ask you, I'm sure."
"I'll just swat at my lessons when I get back, to make up, and I'll do my practising before breakfast."
[92]"Very well, but don't stay later than half-past five. The evenings are beginning to get dark so soon now."
"Oh, thanks most immensely!"
To Lorraine, brought up in a little world consisting mostly of her own family and a circle of cousins, it was really quite an event to pay this visit into the terra incognita of the Art Colony. She came to school in her best dress that afternoon, with the chain of amber15 beads16 that Donald had sent her from Italy. They were at present the only artistic things she possessed17, and therefore the most suitable for the occasion.
She and Claudia hurried away as speedily as possible after four o'clock, and were soon tramping down the hill from The Gables and treading the narrow, quaint6 streets that led towards the sea. The harbour at Porthkeverne was a picturesque place that had figured over and over again on the walls of the Academy. Its green waters this afternoon sheltered a fleet of red-sailed fishing-boats, whose owners were busy making ready to put out into the bay. Over the beach and round about the breakwater flew hundreds of sea-birds, flapping in and out of the water, and pecking among the sea-weed on the rocks. Some venturesome urchins18, scrambling19 after crabs21, screamed almost as lustily as the gulls22.
Along the quay23, behind the barrels and upturned boats and baskets and old timber, was a row of irregular buildings that had once served as sailmakers' warehouses24 or boat builders' workshops. [93]The artistic colony had joyfully25 seized upon these, and had turned them from their original use into a set of studios. Large glass windows fronted the bay, and twisting flights of steps and painted railings led up to the doors on which were brass26 plates with names well known both in London and provincial27 exhibitions.
Claudia led the way along the quay, crossing the gangway where the little river flowed down, and passing the "Sailors' Rest" where a few blue-jacketed old salts were reading the newspapers, then stopped at a particular flight of wooden steps that were painted pale sea-green. Up these she ran, and tapped at a half-open door.
"Come in!" said a voice, and the girls entered.
To Lorraine it was like a sudden peep into fairyland. The rough wooden walls of the studio had been covered with a soft brown embossed paper, that served as a background for sketches28, framed and unframed, which were hung there. Pieces of tapestry29 and oriental curtains were draped between, and large blue-and-white willow-pattern plates made a frieze30 above. A rare walnut31 cabinet, a Japanese screen, a gate-legged table, some Chippendale chairs, and a carved oak cupboard composed the furniture of the room; and there were scattered32 about a large number of artistic "properties"—bright scarves, shells, beads, pottery33, vases, pewter, and standing34 on the floor a huge brass jar filled with branches of flaming autumn leaves.
From the low arm-chair by the fire-place rose Miss Lindsay, a fitting centre for her beautiful [94]surroundings. She was one of those people who seem neither old nor young, for her intense personality quite overmastered any ravages35 time might have made in her appearance. The passing years, while they had brought a grey thread or two among the brown of the hair, had mellowed36 her expression; and the shining hazel eyes seemed as the windows of a soul behind, noble, tender, and full of sympathy. They were merry eyes, too, and they danced as their owner welcomed her guests.
"I've been expecting you, and the kettle's boiling! Sit here, Claudia, and you here, Kilmeny! Lorraine is her name? Never mind, I shall call her what I like. I hope you're fond of potato cake? And shortbread? It's the real kind from Edinburgh. You'd rather begin with plain bread and butter? What well brought-up girls!"
Seated on a round, silk cushion-footstool by the cheery wood fire, drinking tea from a cup covered with little pink roses, with the scent37 of late carnations38 wafted39 from a vase on the table, and her elbow almost touching40 the delicate blue-green velvet41 of Miss Lindsay's artistic dress, Lorraine looked round the studio, fascinated. She thought she had never seen such a delightful place. It appealed intensely to her romantic side, and with its bright draperies and cosy42 corners seemed like the opening scene of a novel. She was glad that the tea gave her some excuse for silence. She was too much interested in gazing about to find words for conversation.
Their hostess, wise in her generation, left her to [95]herself until potato cakes and Scotch43 shortbread should thaw44 the ice and loose her tongue, and meantime discussed mutual45 friends with Claudia.
"We mustn't waste the precious daylight if you really want to see my pictures," she said after a while. "Come to the window and sit here on these chairs, and I'll put the sketches on the easel. They are a series I'm doing for a children's magazine in America. They're to be reproduced in colour."
Miss Lindsay's sketches were charming, and full of a quaint fancy. They were rendered in a medium of her own invention, a combination of pencil, paint, and crayon, which gave the soft effect of a pastel with the permanence of a water-colour. The first depicted46 a nurse holding by the hand a tiny child, who turned with wondering eyes to look at delicate little fairies which the grown-up person evidently did not see. In another a little boy sat in the forest playing with butterfly-winged elves who danced among the bright scarlet47 toadstools. A third showed a brownie in a tree-top, nestling by the side of a baby owl48, and a fourth the pixies sporting under a starlit sky. There were many others, dainty, imaginative and ethereal, some illustrating49 poems or books, and some telling their own story, all painted with the same clever touch and light, brilliant colouring.
"These are my favourites, so I've shown them first, while the light lasts," said Miss Lindsay, "but I've heaps of other studies, landscapes mostly, sketches of Scotland I took this summer. I'll go on putting them on the easel, and when you're [96]really bored stiff you must cry mercy, and I'll stop."
"Bored!" said Lorraine, with a sigh of intense satisfaction, "they're too lovely for anything! I'd give the world if I could paint like that!"
So they looked through piles of fascinating sketches till the short daylight had faded, and the logs on the fire began to throw queer shadows round the studio.
"We must go!" said Claudia at last. "I've some shopping to do for Violet on my way back, and she'll be raggy if I don't turn up soon. I rather believe the things are wanted for supper," she added casually50.
"Then you must hurry," smiled Miss Lindsay, who was well acquainted with the Bohemian ways of the Castleton family. "Even artists don't like to be kept waiting for their meals, however absorbed they get in their pictures." Then, turning to Lorraine, "I'm going to ask you to do something for me, Kilmeny. Will you come to the common with me one day this week at sunset, in the same brown dress you wore last Saturday, and let me sketch you among the thistles and bracken?"
Lorraine flushed with pleasure. She had never stood as model in her life, and, though the experience might be stale and wearisome to Claudia, to her it had all the charm of novelty.
"Of course I will. Would you like me to come to-morrow?" she murmured delightedly. "And—I hope you don't mind my asking—but I should like to know why you call me 'Kilmeny'?"
[97]"Because you looked Kilmeny. Don't you know the poem? She was stolen away by the fairies, and brought up in the place that George Macdonald calls At the Back of the North Wind. Then:
'When seven long years were gone and fled,
When grief was forgotten and hope was dead,
And scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name:
Late, late in the gloaming Kilmeny home came'.
Well, you see, I'm going to paint you just coming home, in the evening glow with the yellow light behind, and the thistles and brown bracken. The sheaf of golden ragwort will be like a wand, and you'll still have the spell of fairyland in your face. I'm not sure if I shan't put in a few half-transparent fairies escorting you back; they'd blend among the thistledown. I can see it all in my mind's eye, if I can only manage to paint it. You'll be sure to come in the brown dress?"
"That doesn't matter in the least. It's the colour I want. The whole scheme was a harmony in brown."
Lorraine went twice to stand for Miss Lindsay on the common, and several times afterwards to her studio to be sketched52 with more detail. Her new friend made three or four separate studies for the picture, intending to work from them afterwards in oils.
"I've sent for quite a decent-sized canvas," she said. "And I'm going to try one or two experiments. [98]I'm not often pleased with my own work, but I like these studies, and feel inspired to do a three by two-and-a-half. Kilmeny, I believe you're going to prove my mascot53!"
When Lorraine tried to analyse afterwards why she had at once taken such an extreme liking54 for Miss Lindsay, she decided55 that the attraction lay in her voice. On some sensitive temperaments56 the quality of a voice has as much effect as personal beauty. A rasping, sharp, fretful or uncompromising tone may be as disagreeable as a wrong accent, but the harps57 of our spirits, finely and delicately strung, vibrate and thrill to kindly58, cheerfully spoken words. The friendship between the two progressed apace. Mrs. Forrester, finding that Lorraine showed such a suddenly awakened59 interest in art, arranged for her to take a course of painting lessons from Miss Lindsay, and she trotted60 off every Saturday morning to the studio by the harbour.
The drawing classes at The Gables had been the only weak spot in an otherwise excellent scheme of education, so Lorraine simply revelled61 in her new lessons. She had genuine talent, and was quick in catching62 up ideas. The artistic atmosphere exactly suited her. So far she had lacked inspiration in her life. She had never been able to feel the enthusiasm which Rosemary threw into music, and though she worked steadily63 at school, the prospect64 of college, dangled65 sometimes by Miss Kingsley, rather repelled66 than tempted67 her. She had drifted aimlessly along, without any specially68 strong tastes [99]or ambitions, till this fresh, wonderful, fascinating world of art suddenly rose up and claimed her for its own. It was a delirious69 sensation, and very stimulating70. She could sympathize now with Rosemary's keenness for the College of Music. Perhaps—who knew?—some day she might prevail on Father to let her go away to London and study painting. The bigness of such a prospect took her breath away.
There could not have been a better pilot in these untried waters than Margaret Lindsay. She proved a veritable fairy godmother, not in painting alone, but in other matters as well. Lorraine had reached that stage of girlhood when she badly needed a new impulse and a different mental atmosphere. It is so difficult sometimes for parents to realize that their children are growing up, and require treating from a revised standpoint. Unconsciously, and out of sheer custom, they rule them de haut en bas, and then wonder why the little confidences of the budding womanhood are given instead to sisters or friends.
Though she was old enough in some ways, in others Miss Lindsay was that most delightful of persons, "a chronic71 child". On occasion she could seem as young as, or even younger than, Lorraine, and enjoyed herself like a veritable schoolgirl. The two had royal times together, painting in the studio, making tea by the wood fire, rambling20 on the cliffs, or wandering through the picturesque fishermen's quarter of the town, a hitherto almost unexplored territory to Lorraine. Under her friend's [100]leadership she began to take up various side branches of art; she dabbled72 in gesso, relief stamping, leather embossing, stencilling73 and illuminating74. New visions of birthday presents dawned on her horizon, and she intended to astonish the family at Christmas. Her only regret was the very scant75 time which she had to devote to these delightful occupations. Her position as head girl at The Gables permitted no slacking in the way of lessons, and her mother had made an express proviso that her work at the studio must not be allowed to interfere with her school preparation.
"Lucky you!" wrote Lorraine to Rosemary. "You're able to spend your whole day over the thing you love best. If I'd my choice, I'd never look at maths, or chemistry again, I'd just paint, paint, paint, from morning till night!"
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1
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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urchins
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| n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 )；淘气鬼；猬；海胆 | |
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scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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crabs
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| n.蟹( crab的名词复数 )；阴虱寄生病；蟹肉v.捕蟹( crab的第三人称单数 ) | |
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gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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pottery
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| n.陶器，陶器场 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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mellowed
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| （使）成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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carnations
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| n.麝香石竹，康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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44
thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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illustrating
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的现在分词 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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50
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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51
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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52
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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mascot
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| n.福神，吉祥的东西 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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temperaments
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| 性格( temperament的名词复数 )； （人或动物的）气质； 易冲动； （性情）暴躁 | |
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harps
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| abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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61
revelled
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| v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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62
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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64
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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65
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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66
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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67
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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68
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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69
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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70
stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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71
chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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72
dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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73
stencilling
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| v.用模板印（文字或图案）( stencil的现在分词 )；型版 | |
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74
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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75
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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