literary authorship, she was now eager to have it declared--for
one reason only,--that he might perhaps think well of her. Whereby
it will be seen that the poor child, endowed with a singular
genius as she was, knew nothing of men and their never-failing
contempt for the achievements of gifted women. Delicate of taste
and sensitive in temperament she was the very last sort of
creature to realise the ugly truth that men, taken en masse,
consider women in one only way--that of sex,--as the lower half of
man, necessary to man's continuance, but always the mere vessel of
his pleasure. To her, Amadis de Jocelyn was the wonderful
realisation of an ideal,--but she was very silent concerning him,
--reserved and almost cold. This rather surprised good Miss Lavinia
Leigh, whose romantic tendencies had been greatly stirred by the
story of the knight of Briar Farm and the discovery of a
descendant of the same family in one of the most admired artists
of the day. They visited Jocelyn's studio together--a vast, bare
place, wholly unadorned by the tawdry paraphernalia which is
sometimes affected by third-rate men to create an "art" impression
on the minds of the uninstructed--and they had stood lost in
wonder and admiration before a great picture he was painting on
commission, entitled "Wild Weather." It was what is called by
dealers an "important work," and represented night closing in over
a sea lashed into fury by the sweep of a stormy wind. So
faithfully was the scene of terror and elemental confusion
rendered that it was like nature itself, and the imaginative eye
almost looked for the rising waves to tumble liquidly from the
painted canvas and break on the floor in stretches of creamy foam.
Gentle Miss Leigh was conscious of a sudden beating of the heart
as she looked at this masterpiece of form and colour,--it reminded
her of the work of Pierce Armitage. She ventured to say so, with a