One never knew when she would turn
her own or her interlocutor's gravity into mirth.
Now no one replied immediately to her remarks, and she continued: "If I
were an artist I should wish to paint that scene, given that the lights
were not so bright and that mill machinery not so sharply defined. There
is almost too much limelight, as it were; too much earnestness in the
thing. Either there should be some side-action of mirth to make it less
intense, or of tragedy to render it less photographic; and unless, Dr.
Marmion, you would consent to be solemn, which would indeed be droll; or
that The Padre there--how amusing they should call him that!--should
cease to be serious, which, being so very unusual, would be tragic, I do
not know how we are to tell the artist that he has missed a chance of
immortalising himself."
Roscoe said nothing, but smiled at her vivacity, while he deprecated her
words by a wave of his hand. I also was silent for a moment; for there
had come to my mind, while she was speaking and I was watching the scene,
something that Hungerford had said to me once on board the 'Fulvia'.
Pages:
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280