As I
saw her reflected in the surface of the stream, which was as smooth
as a mirror--saw her reflected there sometimes on an almost
colourless surface, sometimes amid a procession in which every colour
of the rainbow took part, I sighed. 'Why do you sigh?' said she.
I could not tell her why, for I was recalling Wilderspin's words
about her matchless beauty and its inspiring effect upon the painter
who painted it. It would indeed, as Wilderspin had said, endow
mediocrity with genius.
'Why do you sigh?' she repeated.
'Oh, if I could paint that, Winnie, if I could paint that picture in
the water.'
'And why should you not?' she said, in a dreamy way. And then a
sudden thought seemed to strike her, and she said with much energy,
'Become a painter, Henry! Become a painter! No man ever yet satisfied
a true woman who did not work--work hard at something--anything--if
not in the active affairs of life, in the world of art. My love you
must always have now--you must always have it under any
circumstances. I could not help under any circumstances giving you
love.
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