Woman and Artist Part 8

"Delighted to make your acquaintance," said Pond, shaking hands with Lorimer. "I see by the papers that you are going to give us a new play.

When I was a young man I wrote several plays myself, but I thought better of it, and, like a good Briton, I preferred to be useful to my country and go into business. No offence, I hope," added he, bursting into loud guffaws.

"How long is this a.s.s going to stay here boring us, I wonder?" murmured Philip.

"But to return to the object of my visit," said Sir Benjamin. "A few days ago my daughter got married, and, among other presents, I gave her the choice of two pictures in my gallery. It has left two empty s.p.a.ces on my wall, one eighteen by twenty-four, another thirty-six by fifty.

Now, what have you got that would fill them?"

"Framed or unframed?" said Philip, who by this time was beginning to thoroughly enjoy the situation.

"Bless me, framed, of course," said Sir Benjamin.

"I asked the question merely to form an idea of the size of the canvas."

"Do you think you have what I want? Some pictures that you have finished lately? If they are a trifle smaller, it won't matter much. I like wide frames, they show their value better; and no picture ever suffered from a good-sized frame. I have all my frames made at Denis's ... only the French know how to frame pictures and bind books."

"A sensible remark," said Lorimer to himself.

"I am afraid I have nothing to suit you," said Philip, in the tone of a bootmaker, who has not the right-sized shoes for his customer.

The alderman took a rule out of his pocket, and measured several canvases that Philip placed on Dora's easel, after having removed the copy that she was doing of her own portrait.

"Too small ... too small again ... oh, much too small. By George, what a pity!"

"Perhaps you could put two of those in the larger s.p.a.ce, Sir Benjamin,"

suggested Lorimer, with a wink at Philip, and without losing that British calm, which is the strong point of the Englishman in critical situations.

"Two! oh dear no, that would look patchy. I am very proud of my gallery, sir.... Come and see it some day. There is hardly a good modern painter that isn't represented there. My philanthropy consists in patronising the arts, and especially modern artists. In buying old pictures you put money in the pockets of collectors and dealers, whereas, in buying pictures from living painters, you put money in the pockets of the artists. Now, don't you think I'm right?"

Philip and Lorimer recognised that this was indeed the best manner of appreciating modern art.

"And so you have nothing?" continued Sir Benjamin. "One eighteen by twenty-four, and one thirty-six by fifty," he repeated.

"My work is either too small or too large, I fear. I could, within a month or six weeks, fill your eighteen by twenty-four."

"No, no, I can't wait. Those open s.p.a.ces, staring me in the face, are too awful."

"I am extremely sorry," said Philip.

"So am I," replied Sir Benjamin. "I wanted a picture of yours; I like variety in my gallery."

"And no doubt he has it," thought Lorimer.

"Mr. Grantham," continued the City man, "you have a great career before you. Everybody says so. You'll be an academician before five years are over; you are one of our future great painters."

He gazed around the studio once more, and suddenly noticing the portrait of Dora, he said, "Holloa! what's this?" and proceeded to measure the picture.

"Why, this is the very thing. I'll take this ... I don't know the original, but she's a deuced pretty woman, and if it's a fancy portrait" ...

"It is not quite finished yet."

"Yes, that's true," said Sir Benjamin; "I see the face and hands want a little" ...

"No, the flowers," interrupted Philip; "but it will be finished to-day."

"Good, send it to me to-morrow."

"Sir Benjamin, this picture was painted under exceptional circ.u.mstances.

I mean" ...

"That's all right, my dear sir; your price is mine. That is my way of doing business. When I have taken a fancy to a picture, I never bargain with the artist."

"You misunderstand me, Sir Benjamin," returned Philip; "I simply meant to say, that this picture is not for sale. It is a portrait of my wife, and belongs to her."

"Oh, that's another matter. In that case, I'll say nothing more."

"I hope to be more fortunate some other time."

"So do I. Well, good-day, good-day," said Sir Benjamin, as Philip handed him his hat. "Very pleased to have made your acquaintance. I will let you know, as soon as another" ...

"Vacancy occurs," suggested Lorimer.

"That's it, that's it. Good-bye."

Philip would have liked to give him a kick as well as his hat. He accompanied the alderman to the door and, returning to the studio, found Lorimer holding his sides with laughter.

"Those people are the drawbacks of my profession, old man. They are enough to disgust you with it all. Great heavens, what a fool!"

"I don't know about that; they buy pictures and pay cash down. One may safely say that but for the good inartistic British middle cla.s.s, the fine arts would have to put up their shutters. Our upper cla.s.ses have only praise and money for foreign works. Have we not musicians by the score, who have had to resort to Italian _noms de guerre_, to get a hearing in this country? Yes! I must say, I admire our middle cla.s.ses.

If it were not for our aldermen and county councillors, who have sufficient patriotism to get their portraits done in their own country, our English portraitists would end their careers in the workhouse. And, come, you must own that he was vastly amusing, the dear man; that the imposing big-wig of the City was simply killing." And the humour of the situation striking him afresh, Lorimer rolled on the sofa with laughter, and Dora, entering the studio at that moment, discovered him in a far from dignified position, his legs cutting figures in the air.

"Oh, you've just come too late," said he, rising quickly; "he is gone."

"Who is gone?" said Dora.

"Why, the patron of the arts, Alderman Sir Benjamin Pond." And in a few words, Lorimer described the humorous little scene that had just taken place. Then, suddenly remembering his appointment, he looked at the clock.

"By Jove! it's four o'clock! That is the time I had promised to be at the theatre.... I must fly!"

"Are you off?" said Philip; "I'll go with you. I want some fresh air; I feel stifling, staying all day in this confounded studio. Don't worry, darling," said he to Dora, on seeing her look at the picture that he had begun almost to take a dislike to. "I will finish the picture when I come back. As I said, there is only an hour's work to do to it."

"Where in the name of fortune have I put my ma.n.u.script?" exclaimed Lorimer.

"Here it is on the table," said Dora. "Is there a woman with a past in it?"

"A past?" said Lorimer. "Four pasts, and fine ones too. Quite enough to make up for all possible defects in the play. My dear Mrs. Grantham, I shall not put in appearance here again until I have written a play with an angel in it."

"Never mind the angel," said Dora. "Have a real, true woman--that's good enough for anybody."