Hammond walked straight across the gallery to a picture which occupied a wall by itself at the further end. It represented a summer scene of deep repose. There was water in the foreground, in the back tall forest trees in the fresh, rich foliage of June. Overhead was a sunset sky, its saffron and rosy tints reflected in the water below. The master who painted the picture was Corot.
Hammond motioned Priscilla to sit down opposite to it.
"There is summer." he said; "peace, absolute repose. You have not to go to it; it comes to you."
He did not say any more, but walked away to look at another picture in a different part of the gallery.
Prissie clasped her hands; all the agitation and eagerness went out of her face. She leaned back in her chair. Her att.i.tude partook of the quality of the picture and became restful. Hammond did not disturb her for several moments.
"I am going to show you something different now," he said, coming up to her almost with reluctance. "There is one sort of rest; I will now show you a higher. Here stand so. The light falls well from this angle. Now, what do you see?"
"I don"t understand it," said Prissie after a long, deep gaze.
"Never mind, you see something. Tell me what you see."
Priscilla looked again at the picture.
"I see a woman," she said at last in a slow, pained kind of voice. "I can"t see her face very well, but I know by the way she lies back in that chair that she is old and dreadfully tired. Oh, yes, I know well that she is tired-- see her hand stretched out there-- her hand and her arm-- how thin they are-- how worn-- and----"
"Hard worked," interrupted Hammond. "Any one can see by the att.i.tude of that hand, by the starting veins and the wrinkles that the woman has gone through a life of labor. Well, she does not occupy the whole of the picture. You see before you a tired-out worker. Don"t be so unhappy about her. Look up a little higher in the picture. Observe for yourself that her toils are ended."
"Who is that other figure?" said Priscilla. "A woman too, but young and strong. How glad she looks and how kind. She is carrying a little child in her arms. Who is she? What does she mean?"
"That woman, so grand and strong, represents Death, but not under the old metaphor. She comes with renewed life-- the child is the type of that-- she comes as a deliverer. See, she is touching that poor worn-out creature, who is so tired that she can scarcely hold her head up again. Death, with a new aspect and a new, grand strength in her face is saying to this woman, "Come with me now to your rest. It is all over," Death says: all the trouble and perplexity and strife. Come away with me and rest. The name of that picture is "The Deliverer." It is the work of a painter who can preach a sermon, write a book, deliver an oration and sing a song all through the medium of his brush. I won"t trouble you with his name just now. You will hear plenty of him and his wonderful, great pictures by and by, if you love art as I do."
"Thank you," said Prissie simply. Some tears stole down her cheeks.
She did not know she was crying; she did not attempt to wipe them away.
CHAPTER XXI
"I DETEST IT"
SHORTLY after the girls got home that evening they received letters in their rooms to inform them that Miss Heath and Miss Eccleston had come to the resolution not to report the affair of the auction to the college authorities. They would trust to the honor of the students at St. Benet"s not to allow such a proceeding to occur again and would say nothing further on the matter. Prissie"s eyes again filled with tears as she read the carefully worded note. Holding it open in her hand she rushed to Maggie"s room and knocked. To her surprise, instead of the usual cheerful "Come in," with which Miss Oliphant always a.s.sured her young friend of a welcome, Maggie said from the other side of the locked door:
"I am very busy just now-- I cannot see any one."
Priscilla felt a curious sense of being chilled; her whole afternoon had been one of elation, and Maggie"s words came as a kind of cold douche. She went back to her room, tried not to mind and occupied herself looking over her beloved Greek until the dinner-gong sounded.
After dinner Priscilla again looked with anxious, loving eyes at Maggie. Maggie did not stop, as was her custom, to say a kind word or two as she pa.s.sed. She was talking to another girl and laughing gaily.
Her dress was as picturesque as her face and figure were beautiful.
But was Priscilla mistaken, or was her anxious observation too close?
She felt sure as Miss Oliphant brushed past her that her eyelids were slightly reddened, as if she had been weeping.
Prissie put out a timid hand and touched Maggie on the arm. She turned abruptly.
"I forgot," she said to her companion. "Please wait for me outside, Hester; I"ll join you in a moment. I have just a word to say to Miss Peel. What is it, Prissie" said Maggie then, when the other girl had walked out of hearing. "Why did you touch me?"
"Oh, for nothing much," replied Prissie, half frightened at her manner, which was sweet enough but had an intangible hardness about it, which Priscilla felt, but could not fathom. "I thought you"d be so glad about the decision Miss Heath and Miss Eccleston have come to."
"No, I am not particularly glad. I can"t stay now to talk it over, however; Hester Stuart wants me to practise a duet with her."
"May I come to your room later on, Maggie?"
"Not to-night, I think; I shall be very busy."
Miss Oliphant nodded brightly and disappeared out of the dining-hall.
Two girls were standing not far off. They had watched this little scene, and they now observed that Prissie clasped her hands and that a woe-begone expression crossed her face.
"The spell is beginning to work," whispered one to the other. "When the knight proves unfaithful the most gracious lady must suffer resentment."
Priscilla did not hear these words. She went slowly upstairs and back to her own room, where she wrote letters home, and made copious notes from her last lectures, and tried not to think of the little cloud which seemed to have come between her and Maggie.
Late, on that same evening, Polly Singleton, who had just been entertaining a chosen bevy of friends in her own room, after the last had bidden her an affectionate "good night," was startled at hearing a low knock at her door. She opened it at once. Miss Oliphant stood without.
"May I come in?" she asked.
"Why, of course. I"m delighted to see you. How kind of you to come.
Where will you sit? I"m afraid you won"t find things very comfortable, for most of my furniture is gone. But there"s the bed; do you mind sitting on the bed?"
"If I want to sit at all the bed is as snug a place as any," replied Maggie. "But I"m not going to stay a moment, for it is very late. See, I have brought you this back."
Polly looked, and for the first time observed that her own sealskin jacket hung on Maggie"s arm.
"What do you mean?" she said. "My sealskin jacket! Oh, my beauty! But it isn"t mine, it"s yours now. Why do you worry me-- showing it to me again?"
"I don"t want to worry you, Miss Singleton. I mean what I say. I have brought your jacket back."
"But it is yours-- you bought it."
"I gave a nominal price for it, but that doesn"t make it mine. Anyhow, I have no use for it. Please take it back again."
Poor Polly blushed very red all over her face.
"I wish I could," she said. "If there has been anything I regretted in the auction, besides getting all you girls into a mess, it has been my sealskin jacket. Dad is almost certain to ask me about it, for he never made me such a handsome present before. Poor dad! he was so proud the night he brought it home. He said, "Look here, Poll, I paid a whole sheaf of fivers for this, and although it cost me a good round eighty guineas, I"m told it"s cheap at the price. Put it on and let me see how you look in it," he said. And when I had it on he twisted me round, and chucked me under the chin, and said I was a "bouncer." Poor old dad! He was as proud as Punch of me in that jacket. I never saw anything like it."
"Well, he can be as proud as Punch of you again. Here is the jacket for your very own once more. Good night."
She walked to the door, but Miss Singleton ran after her.
"I can"t take it back," she said. "I"m not as mean as all that comes to. It"s yours now; you got it as fair as possible."
"Listen, Miss Singleton," said Maggie. "If I keep that jacket I shall never wear it. I detest sealskin jackets. It won"t be the least sc.r.a.p of use to me."
"You detest sealskin jackets? How can you? Oh, the lovely things they are. Let me stroke the beauty down."
"Stroke your beauty and pet it as much as you like, only let me say "Good night" now."
"But, please, Miss Oliphant, please, I"d do anything in the world to get the jacket back, of course. But I"ve ten guineas of yours, and honestly I can"t pay them back."