"If there have hitherto been only twelve artists I will make the
thirteenth," I said. "There! I am not afraid. _I_ go and darn
stockings! No, I won't, not while you are alive, Cousin Geoffrey."
I was angry, and I knew my eyes flashed angrily. I had often been told
that my eyes could flash in a very brilliant and even alarming manner,
and I was well aware that they had now bestowed a lightning glance of
scorn on Cousin Geoffrey.
He was not displeased.
"Oh, what utter nonsense you talk!" he said. "But you are a brave girl,
very brave. Why, you are not a bit afraid of me!"
"Afraid?" I said. "What do you mean?"
"Most of my relatives are afraid of me, child. They choose their words
carefully; they always call me `dear Geoffrey,' or `dear Cousin
Geoffrey,' and they agree with every word I say. It's awfully
monotonous being agreed with, I can tell you. A daring chit like you is
a wonderful change for the better. Now, come down-stairs with me. You
and I will have tea together. Rosamund, I wish you had a contented
soul."
By this time we had returned to the ugly sitting-room with the
sky-light. Cousin Geoffrey had lit a fire with his own hands. He was
now on his knees toasting some bread. He would not allow me to help him
in the smallest particular.
"Rosamund," he repeated, "I wish you were contented. Your ambition will
undo you; your pride will have a fall."
"Very well, Cousin Geoffrey, let it. I would rather ride my high-horse
for a day, and have a fall in the evening, than never mount it at all."
"Oh, folly, child, stuff and folly! There, the kettle boils. No, you
need not help me, I don't want young misses with grand ideas like you to
touch my china. Rosamund, do you know--that I am looking out for an
heir, or an heiress, to inherit my riches?"
"All right, Cousin Geoffrey, only pray don't choose me!"
"You, you saucy chit! I want some one who's contented, who won't
squander my gold. _You_!--really, Rosamund, your words are a little too
bold to be always agreeable."
"Please forgive me, Cousin Geoffrey. I just came here to-day to ask you
for a little help--just a trifle out of all your wealth, and I don't
want you to think to think."
"That you have come prying round like the other relatives? Why, child,
your eyes have got tears in them. They look soft now--they were fierce
enough a few moments ago. I don't think anything bad of you, Rosamund;
you are a brave girl. You shall come and see me again."
"I will, with pleasure, when I come to London, to study art."
"Oh--pooh!--Now drink your tea."
After the meal was over, Cousin Geoffrey rose, and held out his hand.
"Good-bye, Rosamund," he said. "I am glad you came to see me. You are
your mother's daughter, although you have not got her face. You may
tell her so if you like, and and--But no; I won't send any other
message. Good-bye, Rosamund."
"Cousin Geoffrey, you have not told me--Cousin Geoffrey--you won't, oh,
you won't disappoint me?"
"Child, if I grant your request it will be against my will. As a rule,
I never do anything against my will. I disapprove of your scheme. You
are just a nice girl, but you are no artist, Rosamund."
"Cousin Geoffrey, let me prove to you that I am."
"I don't want you to prove it to me. There, if I think twice of this
matter you shall hear from me in a week."
"And if I don't hear?"
"Take my silence for what it means. I respect art--only true votaries
must approach her shrine."