Garth Dalmain was not the sort of man to wait on the door-mat
of a woman's indecision.
Neither did this Jack of hers break his crown. His portrait of
Pauline Lister, painted six months after the Shenstone visit, had
proved the finest bit of work he had as yet accomplished. He had
painted the lovely American, in creamy white satin, standing on a
dark oak staircase, one hand resting on the balustrade, the other,
full of yellow roses, held out towards an unseen friend below.
Behind and above her shone a stained-glass window, centuries old,
the arms, crest, and mottoes of the noble family to whom the place
belonged, shining thereon in rose-coloured and golden glass. He had
wonderfully caught the charm and vivacity of the girl. She was gaily
up-to-date, and frankly American, from the crown of her queenly
little head, to the point of her satin shoe; and the suggestiveness
of placing her in surroundings which breathed an atmosphere of the
best traditions of England's ancient ancestral homes, the fearless
wedding of the new world with the old, the putting of this sparkling
gem from the new into the beautiful mellow setting of the old and
there showing it at its best,--all this was the making of the
picture.
Pages:
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206