"
"You are challenging compliments."
"What I could do nicely would be to paint squirrels and monkeys playing
on vines round the choir, or daisies and buttercups in a row, with one
tall daisy in each group of five. That is the way for a woman to make
herself useful."
"Be serious!"
"I feel more solemn than Mr. Wharton's great figure of John of Patmos. I
am going home to burn my brushes and break my palette. What is the use
of trying to go forward when one feels iron bars across one's face?"
"Be reasonable, Miss Dudley! If Wharton is willing to teach, why not be
willing to learn? You are not to be the judge. If I think your work
good, have I not a right to call on you for it?"
"Oh, yes! You have a right to call, and I have a right to refuse. I will
paint no more religious subjects. I have not enough soul. My St. Cecilia
looks like a nursery governess playing a waltz for white-cravated saints
to dance by." There was a tone of real mortification in Esther's voice
as she looked once more at the figure on the wall, and felt how weak it
seemed by the side of Wharton's masculine work. Then she suddenly
changed her mind and did just what he asked: "If Mr. Wharton will
consent, I will begin again, and paint it all over."
A woman could easily have seen that she was torn in opposite directions
by motives of a very contrary kind, but Mr. Hazard did not speculate on
this subject; he was glad to carry his point, and let the matter rest
there.
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