Turners--drawings from his best period, each of them irreplaceably
famous. Another wall showed a group of Boningtons--a third a similar
gathering of Whistlers. Sir William, charmed with the bride's pleasure,
took down drawing after drawing, carried them to the light for her, and
discoursed upon them.

'Would you like that to copy?'--he said, putting a Turner into her
lap--a marvel of blue mountain peaks, and winding river, and aerial
distance.

'Oh, I shouldn't dare--I should be afraid!' said Nelly, hardly liking to
take the treasure in her own hands. 'Aren't they--aren't they worth
immense sums?'

Sir William laughed.

'Well, of course, they're valuable--everybody wants them. But if you
would ever like that one to copy, you shall have it, and any other that
would help you. I know you wouldn't let it be hurt, if you could help
it--because you'd love it--as I do. You wouldn't let a Turner drawing
like that fade and blister in the sun--as I've seen happen again and
again in houses he painted them for. Brutes! Hanging's too good for
people who maltreat Turners. Let me relieve you of it now. I must get
you some tea. But the drawing will come to you next week. You won't be
able to think of it till then.'

He looked at her with the ardent sympathy which sprang easily from his
quick, emotional temperament, and made it possible for him to force his
way rapidly into intimacy, where he desired to be intimate. But Nelly
shrank into herself. She put the drawing away, and did not seem to care