Friends I Have Made Part 26

"`Why, what are you going to do, then?' he asked in an astonished way.

"`Let him paint little Cobweb,' I said, chuckling, and rubbing my hands.

"Smith gave a long whistle, and his fingers twitched as if he were mending a sewing machine, and after a few more words he left.

"It did not strike me then, but I remarked afterwards that he seemed disposed to draw back from his proposal; but I was now so wrapped up in my plans that I could think of nothing but the picture in the wood, and I went home full of it, meaning it for a surprise.

"Two days later one of the servants announced a Mr Grantly on business, and, on his being shown in, I found myself face to face with a handsome, grave-looking man of about thirty. He was rather shabbily dressed, and looked pale and ill as he bowed to Cobweb and myself, ending by staring at my child, as I thought, in rather a peculiar way.

"This annoyed me--a stout, choleric, elderly man--for no one had a right to look at my Cobweb but me and I spoke rather testily as I said--

"`Now, sir, when you please, I am at your service.'

"`I beg your pardon,' he said, in a low voice. `Miss Burrows, I presume. One moment, please--don't move.'

"Cobweb was sitting in the bay-window, and, to my utter astonishment, he quickly drew one of the curtains, and then half closed another, so that the light fell strongly upon her hair.

"I could not speak for the pa.s.sion bubbling up in my throat, and as I stood gasping, he came and took my arm, led me aside, and then, pointing to where Cobweb sat, as astounded as myself, he said--

"`That would be admirable, sir. We could not improve that natural pose.'

"`What the d.i.c.kens--Are you mad, sir? What do you mean?'

"`I beg your pardon,' he said, flushing, and speaking hastily. `I am so wrapped up in my profession. I thought you understood. Mr Smith said you wished me to paint this young lady's portrait. Am I mistaken?'

"`Chut!' I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, cooling on the instant. `I beg your pardon.

Sit down, sir, sit down. You're hungry, of course. How stupid of me!-- Cobweb, my dear, order some lunch into the dining-room.'

"He smiled, returned the pressure of my hand in a frank, honest way that I liked, and then looked after my darling in a way that I did not like; for this was not what I meant, and my jealousy was aroused. I expected some snuffy-looking old painter, not a grave handsome young fellow. But I remembered Tom Smith's words--`He is a gentleman, and a man of honour'--and casting away my suspicious thoughts, I entered into the subject at once.

"`I'd half forgotten it,' I said. `She'll make a good picture, eh?'

"`Admirable, sir. That position struck me at once as I entered.'

"`I'll show you a better one than that, my boy,' I chuckled. `But I'm a business man: what's your figure--the price, eh?'

"He hesitated, and his lip quivered as he said--

"`Would--fifteen guineas be too much?'

"`Fifteen!' I said.

"`I should take great pains with it--it will be a long task,' he said eagerly; and there was trouble in the wrinkles of his forehead. `But if you think it too much--'

"`I think it an absurd price, sir,' I said testily, for Smith had said he was very poor. `Why, my friend Wilson gave four hundred for a bit of a sc.r.a.p of canvas--'

"`By a very clever artist, sir,' he said, with a grave smile.

"`Look here,' I said, `Mr--Mr--Grantly. You make a good picture of it, and I'll give you fifty guineas.'

"He flushed, and look pained.

"`Less than half would pay me well, sir,' he said.

"`Tut, tut! stuff man! Smith told me you were poor and hard up. You always will be if you are not more of a man of business.'

"`Sir!' he exclaimed, rising and looking at me angrily, `I came here expecting the treatment--'

"He stopped short, reeled, sank into his chair, and covered his face with his hands.

"`My dear sir--I--really--I--I didn't mean--'

"I stammered, perspiring at every pore, for the position was most painful.

"`No, no,' he said hastily, `I beg your pardon. But--but,' he continued, striving manfully to master his emotion, `I have been very ill, sir, and I am weak. I have been unfortunate--almost starving at times. I have not broken bread since yesterday morning--I could not without selling my colours. I--I am much obliged--forgive me--let me go back to town. Oh, my G.o.d! has it come to this?'

"He sank back half fainting, but started as I roared out, `Go away!' for Cobweb was coming into the room.

"`Thank you,' he said, softly as he saw what I had done. `It was kind of you.'

"`My dear fellow,' I said, `this is terrible;' and I mopped my face.

`There, sit still--back directly.'

"I ran out to find Cobweb in the hall.

"`Oh, you dear, good father!' she cried, with tears in her eyes. `What a kind surprise! But is anything wrong?'

"`Artist little faint,' I said. `Here, the sherry--biscuits. Stop away a bit.'

"I ran back with them, and made him take some wine; and, thus revived, he rose and thanked me.

"`What are you going to do?' I said, staring.

"`I'm going back to town, sir,' he said quietly, but with his lower lip trembling. `I am not fit to undertake the task. I thank you, but it is too late. I am not well.'

"I looked at him with business eyes, and in that brief glance, as in a revelation, I saw the struggles of a poor proud man of genius, who could not battle with the world. I saw the man who had sold, bit by bit, everything he owned, in his struggle for daily bread; and as I looked at him I felt ashamed that I should be so rich, and fat, and well.

"`Mr Grantly,' I said, offering my hand, `I am a rough man, and spoiled by bullying people, and having my own way. I beg your pardon for what I have said, and am going to say. You came down here, sir, to paint my little girl's portrait, and you are going to paint it before you go back to town; and when you do go, you are going to have fifty guineas in your pocket. Hush! not a word, sir. My old friend Tom Smith told me that you were a gentleman and a man of honour. Tom Smith is never deceived.

Now, sir, please come into the dining-room and have some lunch. Not a word, please. If good food won't bring you round, you shall have the doctor; for, as the police say,' I continued, laughing, `you're my prisoner--but on parole.'

"He tried to speak, but could not, and turned away.

"`All right,' I said, `all right;' and I patted him on the shoulder, and walked away to the window for a few minutes before I turned back to find him more composed.

"That afternoon we all three went out into the wood, and I made Cobweb stand as I had seen her on that day.

"Grantly was delighted, and insisted upon making a sketch at once; and then the days wore on, with the painting progressing slowly, but in a way that was a wonder to me, so exquisite was every touch, for the artist's whole soul was in his work.