Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 57, No. 351, January 1845

"It takes a long time to get in all these twists and corners," replied Miss Arabel with a smile of satisfaction, to find that the recontre was not more one of chance on his side than her own.

"Do you devote yourself entirely to sketching?"

"Oh no! I paint as well. We have a large gallery at home, and it is an excellent school. The family portraits are, many of them, very fine."

"Does it go far back in the English school?"

"Oh, you should see the great wigs of the Charleses and jack-boots of the cavaliers! We were all cavaliers, I suppose, for I don't see a single roundhead among them."

"And the ladies?"

"Oh, such hoops and farthingales! such pyramids of muslin on their heads, and pillars of red leather upon their heels!"

"And is the painting good of that ancient date? How do you like it compared to the modern?"

"We have very few modern portraits; and none of any ladies later than George II."

"No?" enquired the young man anxiously. "No lady later than that? Ah, then I have been misinformed!" he added in a disappointed tone.

"Had you heard of our collection, then?"

"Yes — no — that is — I believe, in most old family houses, there is a regular series of portraits that may enable the student to trace the alterations of the English school from its very commencement."

"Oh — a student — are you? — that is — have I the pleasure of speaking to a painter?" enquired Miss Arabel with great dignity.

"Oh no, madam; only an admirer of the art."

"And you are disappointed at the want of recent female portraits," said Arabel more graciously, the faintest possible hope springing to her heart that he was disappointed at the absence of her own.

"I should like to have heard the opinion of a competent judge on so interesting a subject. A comparison between Kneller for instance and Sir Joshua would be worthy of your taste."

"Oh, Kneller by all means, and Lely better than both! I believe, now that you put me in mind of it, there is a pale colourless Sir Joshua in the nursery — the school-room I mean."

"A lady?" enquired the stranger.

"A person," replied Miss Arabel, who never allowed lady's rank to any one whose status she did not know — "with long hair falling about her face, and a little boy lying asleep in her lap. Whether she was a lady or not, I don't know, but I rather think not, for I never heard of her being connected with our family. Perhaps she was a nurse."

"And are you sure it is a Sir Joshua?"

"Oh, yes! — His name is written on the back; and Mr Ochre, my drawing-master, says it is all out of proportion, and of no merit at all. But why are you so anxious about the daub? Mr Ochre wishes to be allowed to retouch it."

"If he lays a brush on it" — the stranger began in a furious tone, but checked himself — "if he lays a brush on it, he will spoil an old master."

"A master!" said Miss Arabel with a contemptuous giggle. "I only wish you could see it."

"I wish I could," replied the young gentleman; "but I am afraid I shall never be so happy."

"Oh!" — The young lady did not say any thing more, but looked at the stranger, as if taking measure of his respectability to see if an entrée to Surbridge Hall was really above his hopes. He was tall, well made, with an air such as she had not seen in any of the visitors at that aristocratic mansion.

"I'm sure," she repeated, looking down and speaking with interesting hesitation, "my papa would be happy to show his gallery to any gentleman in the neighbourhood. Perhaps you know papa?"

"I have not the honour, but since I know what a treasure he possesses, I should think it a great happiness to make his acquaintance."

The lady said nothing, but thought it the most neatly turned compliment she ever heard in her life.

"I am on a visit to a family near this," he continued, "and may perhaps have the opportunity of meeting Mr Howard.

"Oh, where is it?" exclaimed Miss Arabel. "What is their name? We know every body in the neighbourhood — that is, of course, you know" —

"Every body that's worth knowing," said the stranger with a smile.

"Exactly. Is it the Rayleighs of Borley Castle, we know them very well; or the Manbys of Flixley Abbey, delightful people, we are quite intimate with them; or the Sundridges of Fairley Manor, there are no pleasanter people in the world — so good, so ladylike, and yet they say Mrs Sundridge's father was something very low, a Calcutta merchant, or India director, or something of that sort. Is it any of these?"

"No! It is with a gentleman who has lately taken a small villa in the neighbourhood, and I am afraid he will think I have been absent from him too long. Do you sketch here every day?"

"Till I have finished this tiresome building," replied Miss Arabel. "I must avail myself of the fine weather, and not miss a single morning."

The gentleman smiled, and so did the lady. With another apology for having intruded, he bowed and withdrew.

Miss Arabel continued where she was, till she lost his graceful figure among the windings of the shrubbery.

"He is a charming man," she thought, "and might easily manage to get acquainted with papa if he chose. Who can he be? — he's very clever and very accomplished — and walks so nobly. I wonder if he is in the Guards."

She opened her sketch-book once more, and was busy with her pencil, and her thoughts at the same time. She had not seen what necessity there was for taking his leave so hurriedly, and perhaps a faint idea came to her, that it was not impossible he might return. While she was new-pointing her pencil, and recalling all that the stranger had said, she heard a footstep coming through the plantation.

"Hush! He is coming again. He can't stay away."

"Servant, young mum — servant, and all that," said a voice close behind her; — "Scratch! scratch! there you go, painting bricks as if they was Christians, and all that."

"Sir! Are you aware this is private property. Papa would be very angry if" —

"He heard I was here. I dassay he would, and all that — but I don't intend to wait for him here. I'll beat up his quarters at the hall — I will — and all that."

Miss Arabel had a profound contempt for old people and little people; and the person who at present addressed her was both little and old. He wore a short flaxen wig, and a spenser over a long-tailed blue coat; grey nether habiliments, with four or five inches of a white worsted stocking visible between his knee and his gaiter. It was a very well-shaped leg, and the owner thereof seemed to know it.

"You will not find papa at home," said Miss Arabel. "He has gone out to a magistrate's meeting."

"I didn't say I was going there to-day, did I? — and he don't go justicing every day in the week, I hope. I'll see him soon, depend on't, and make acquaintance with his young 'uns, and all that. How many is there of you?"

"My sister and myself — if you enquire as to the number of Mr Gillingham Howard's family," replied Miss Arabel.

"What! ha'n't ye picked up ne'er a man yet? ne'er a one on you? Is your sister any thing like yourself?"

Miss Arabel cast a look of haughty indignation on her questioner; but disdained a reply.

"Pr'aps you're looking out for a juke or a bernet, or some regular nobleman, and all that — for I hear you carries all your heads uncommon high — whereby it wouldn't be unagreeable to pull 'em down a bit, and all that. Come, come, don't pout nor be sulky. Be friendly, young 'oman, now that we're going to be neighbours, and all that."

"Friendly, indeed!" said Miss Arabel, with a toss of her head that would have snapped a martingale in fifty pieces. "Pray walk on, sir. I am a lady, and papa would be very indignant at your impertinence."