THE BELDONALD HOLBEIN
or that, whatever we do, she'll ever make her one. That isn't the way it will happen, for she's exactly as conscientious as Mrs. Brash."
"Then what is the way?" I asked.
"It will just happen in silence."
"And what will 'it', as you call it, be?"
"Isn't that what we want really to see?"
"Well," I replied after a turn or two about, "whether we want it or not, it's exactly what we shall see; which is a reason the more for fancying, between the pair there—in the quiet, exquisite house, and full of superiorities and suppressions as they both are—the extraordinary situation. If I said just now that it's too late to do anything but accept, it's because I've taken the full measure of what happened at my studio. It took but a few moments—but she tasted of the tree."
My companion wondered. "Nina?"
"Mrs. Brash." And to have to put it so ministered, while I took yet another turn, to a sort of agitation. Our attitude was a responsibility.
But I had suggested something else to my friend, who appeared for a moment detached. "Should you say she'll hate her worse if she doesn't see?"
"Lady Beldonald? Doesn't see what we see, you mean, than if she does? Ah, I give that up!" I laughed. "But what I can tell you is why I hold that, as I said just now, we can do most. We can do this: we can give to a harmless and sensitive creature hitherto practically disinherited—and give with an unexpectedness that will immensely add to its price—the pure joy of a deep draught of the very pride of life, of an acclaimed personal triumph in our superior, sophisticated world."
Mrs. Munden had a glow of response for my sudden eloquence. "Oh, it will be beautiful!"
43
