CHAPTER IX.

achedit,afigure,conspicuousonadarkbackgroundofevergreens,wasseatedonabench,sketchingtheoldtree.Mr.Brooke,whowaswalkinginfrontwithCelia,turnedhishead,andsaid— “Whoisthatyoungster,Casaubon?” TheyhadcomeverynearwhenMr.Casaubonanswered— “Thatisayoungrelativeofmine,asecondcousin:thegrandson,infact,”headded,lookingatDorothea,“oftheladywhoseportraityouhavebeennoticing,myauntJulia.” Theyoungmanhadlaiddownhissketch-bookandrisen.Hisbushylight-browncurls,aswellashisyouthfulness,identifiedhimatoncewithCelia’sapparition. “Dorothea,letmeintroducetoyoumycousin,Mr.Ladislaw.Will,thisisMissBrooke.” Thecousinwassoclosenow,that,whenheliftedhishat,Dorotheacouldseeapairofgrayeyesratherneartogether,adelicateirregularnosewithalittlerippleinit,andhairfallingbackwardbuttherewasamouthandchinofamoreprominent,threateningaspectthanbelongedtothetypeofthegrandmother’sminiature.YoungLadislawdidnotfeelitnecessarytosmile,asifhewerecharmedwiththisintroductiontohisfuturesecondcousinandherrelativesbutworeratherapoutingairofdiscontent. “Youareanartist,Isee,”saidMr.Brooke,takingupthesketch-bookandturningitoverinhisunceremoniousfashion. “No,Ionlysketchalittle.Thereisnothingfittobeseenthere,”saidyoungLadislaw,coloring,perhapswithtemperratherthanmodesty. “Oh,come,thisisanicebit,now.Ididalittleinthiswaymyselfatonetime,youknow.Lookhere,nowthisiswhatIcallanicething,donewithwhatweusedtocallbrio.”Mr.Brookeheldouttowardsthetwogirlsalargecoloredsketchofstonygroundandtrees,withapool. “Iamnojudgeofthesethings,”saidDorothea,notcoldly,butwithaneagerdeprecationoftheappealtoher.“Youknow,uncle,Ineverseethebeautyofthosepictureswhichyousayaresomuchpraised.TheyarealanguageIdonotunderstand.IsupposethereissomerelationbetweenpicturesandnaturewhichIamtooignoranttofeel—justasyouseewhataGreeksentencestandsforwhichmeansnothingtome.”DorothealookedupatMr.Casaubon,whobowedhisheadtowardsher,whileMr.Brookesaid,smilingnonchalantly— “Blessme,now,howdifferentpeopleare!Butyouhadabadstyleofteaching,youknow—elsethisisjustthethingforgirls—sketching,fineartandsoon.Butyoutooktodrawingplansyoudon’tunderstandmorbidezza,andthatkindofthing.Youwillcometomyhouse,Ihope,andIwillshowyouwhatIdidinthisway,”hecontinued,turningtoyoungLadislaw,whohadtoberecalledfromhispreoccupationinobservingDorothea.Ladislawhadmadeuphismindthatshemustbeanunpleasantgirl,sinceshewasgoingtomarryCasaubon,andwhatshesaidofherstupidityaboutpictureswouldhaveconfirmedthatopinionevenifhehadbelievedher.Asitwas,hetookherwordsforacovertjudgment,andwascertainthatshethoughthissketchdetestable.Therewastoomuchclevernessinherapology:shewaslaughingbothatheruncleandhimself.Butwhatavoice!ItwaslikethevoiceofasoulthathadoncelivedinanAeolianharp.ThismustbeoneofNature’sinconsistencies.TherecouldbenosortofpassioninagirlwhowouldmarryCasaubon.Butheturnedfromher,andbowedhisthanksforMr.Brooke’sinvitation. “WewillturnovermyItalianengravingstogether,”continuedthatgood-naturedman.“Ihavenoendofthosethings,thatIhavelaidbyforyears.Onegetsrustyinthispartofthecountry,youknow.Notyou,Casaubonyousticktoyourstudiesbutmybestideasgetundermost—outofuse,youknow.Youcleveryoungmenmustguardagainstindolence.Iwastooindolent,youknow:elseImighthavebeenanywhereatonetime.” “Thatisaseasonableadmonition,”saidMr.Casaubon“butnowwewillpassontothehouse,lesttheyoungladiesshouldbetiredofstanding.” Whentheirbackswereturned,youngLadislawsatdowntogoonwithhissketching,andashedidsohisfacebrokeintoanexpressionofamusementwhichincreasedashewentondrawing,tillatlasthethrewbackhisheadandlaughedaloud.PartlyitwasthereceptionofhisownartisticproductionthattickledhimpartlythenotionofhisgravecousinastheloverofthatgirlandpartlyMr.Brooke’sdefinitionoftheplacehemighthaveheldbutfortheimpedimentofindolence.Mr.WillL