House of Representatives and were inditing a most sharp response. Mr.
Cooke hung beside the ruler whom he opposed, sturdy and somewhat
puritanical, as befitted a popular leader. The ancient lady of Sir
William Phipps eyed them from the wall in ruff and farthingale, an
imperious old dame not unsuspected of witchcraft. John Winslow, then a
very young man, wore the expression of warlike enterprise which long
afterward made him a distinguished general. Their personal friends
were recognized at a glance. In most of the pictures the whole mind
and character were brought out on the countenance and concentrated
into a single look; so that, to speak paradoxically, the originals
hardly resembled themselves so strikingly as the portraits did.

Among these modern worthies there were two old bearded saints who had
almost vanished into the darkening canvas. There was also a pale but
unfaded Madonna who had perhaps been worshipped in Rome, and now
regarded the lovers with such a mild and holy look that they longed to
worship too.

"How singular a thought," observed Walter Ludlow, "that this beautiful
face has been beautiful for above two hundred years! Oh, if all beauty
would endure so well! Do you not envy her, Elinor?"

"If earth were heaven, I might," she replied. "But, where all things
fade, how miserable to be the one that could not fade!"

"This dark old St. Peter has a fierce and ugly scowl, saint though he
be," continued Walter; "he troubles me. But the Virgin looks kindly at
us."

"Yes, but very sorrowfully, methinks," said Elinor.