The Puppies Were Removed, But I Almost Felt
Guilty At Finding Fault With A Dog In This Country.
It is a matter
of constant surprise to me, and it always give me a warm glow in the
region of the heart, to see the supremacy of the dog in England.
He
is respected, admired, loved, and considered, as he deserves to be
everywhere, but as he frequently is not. He is admitted on all
excursions; he is taken into the country for his health; he is a
factor in all the master' plans; in short, the English dog is a
member of the family, in good and regular standing.
My interior surroundings are all charming. My little sitting-room,
out of which I turned Mrs. Bobby, is bright with potted ferns and
flowering plants, and on its walls, besides the photographs of a
large and unusually plain family, I have two works of art which
inspire me anew every time I gaze at them: the first a scriptural
subject, treated by an enthusiastic but inexperienced hand, 'Susanne
dans le Bain, surprise par les Deux Vieillards'; the second, 'The
White Witch of Worcester on her Way to the Stake at High Cross.'
The unfortunate lady in the latter picture is attired in a white
lawn wrapper with angel sleeves, and is followed by an abbess with
prayer-book, and eight surpliced choir-boys with candles. I have
been long enough in England to understand the significance of the
candles. Doubtless the White Witch had paid four shillings a week
for each of them in her prison lodging, and she naturally wished to
burn them to the end.
One has no need, though, of pictures on the walls here, for the
universe seems unrolled at one's very feet. As I look out of my
window the last thing before I go to sleep, I see the lights of
Great Belvern, the dim shadows of the distant cathedral towers, the
quaint priory seven centuries old, and just the outline of Holly
Bush Hill, a sacred seat of magic science when the Druids
investigated the secrets of the stars, and sought, by auspices and
sacrifices, to forecast the future and to penetrate the designs of
the gods.
It makes me feel very new, very undeveloped, to look out of that
window. If I were an Englishwoman, say the fifty-fifth duchess of
something, I could easily glow with pride to think that I was part
and parcel of such antiquity; the fortunate heiress not only of land
and titles, but of historic associations. But as I am an American
with a very recent background, I blow out my candle with the feeling
that it is rather grand to be making history for somebody else to
inherit.
Chapter XIX. The heart of the artist.
I am almost too comfortable with Mrs. Bobby. In fact I wished to be
just a little miserable in Belvern, so that I could paint with a
frenzy. Sometimes, when I have been in a state of almost despairing
loneliness and gloom, the colours have glowed on my canvas and the
lines have shaped themselves under my hand independent of my own
volition.
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