JANE VOLUNTEERS
The duchess plumped down her basket in the middle of the strawberry table.
"There, good people!" she said, rather breathlessly."Help yourselves, and let me see you all wearing roses to-night.And the concert-room is to be a bower of roses.We will call it 'LA FETE DESROSES.'...No, thank you, Ronnie.That tea has been made half an hour at least, and you ought to love me too well to press it upon me.Besides, I never take tea.I have a whiskey and soda when I wake from my nap, and that sustains me until dinner.Oh yes, my dear Myra, I know I came to your interesting meeting, and signed that excellent pledge 'POUR ENCOURAGER LES AUTRES'; but I drove straight to my doctor when I left your house, and he gave me a certificate to say I MUST take something when I needed it; and I always need it when I wake from my nap....Really, Dal, it is positively wicked for any man, off the stage, to look as picturesque as you do, in that pale violet shirt, and dark violet tie, and those white flannels.If I were your grandmother I should send you in to take them off.If you turn the heads of old dowagers such as I am, what chance have all these chickens?...Hush, Tommy! That was a very naughty word! And you need not be jealous of Dal.I admire you still more.Dal, will you paint my scarlet macaw?"The young artist, whose portraits in that year's Academy had created much interest in the artistic world, and whose violet shirt had just been so severely censured, lay back in his lounge-chair, with his arms behind his head and a gleam of amusement in his bright brown eyes.
"No, dear Duchess," he said."I beg respectfully to decline the commission, Tommy would require a Landseer to do full justice to his attitudes and expression.Besides, it would be demoralising to an innocent and well-brought-up youth, such as you know me to be, to spend long hours in Tommy's society, listening to the remarks that sweet bird would make while I painted him.But I will tell you what I will do.I will paint you, dear Duchess, only not in that hat!
Ever since I was quite a small boy, a straw hat with black ribbons tied under the chin has made me feel ill.If I yielded to my natural impulses now, I should hide my face in Miss Champion's lap, and kick and scream until you took it off.I will paint you in the black velvet gown you wore last night, with the Medici collar; and the jolly arrangement of lace and diamonds on your head.And in your hand you shall hold an antique crystal mirror, mounted in silver."The artist half closed his eyes, and as he described his picture in a voice full of music and mystery, an attentive hush fell upon the gay group around him.When Garth Dalmain described his pictures, people saw them.When they walked into the Academy or the New Gallery the following year, they would say: "Ah, there it is! just as we saw it that day, before a stroke of it was on the canvas.""In your left hand, you shall hold the mirror, but you shall not be looking into it; because you never look into mirrors, dear Duchess, excepting to see whether the scolding you are giving your maid, as she stands behind you, is making her cry; and whether that is why she is being so clumsy in her manipulation of pins and things.If it is, you promptly promise her a day off, to go and see her old mother; and pay her journey there and back.If it isn't, you scold her some more.Were I the maid, I should always cry, large tears warranted to show in the glass; only I should not sniff, because sniffing is so intensely aggravating; and I should be most frightfully careful that my tears did not run down your neck.""Dal, you ridiculous CHILD!" said the duchess."Leave off talking about my maids, and my neck, and your crocodile tears, and finish describing the portrait.What do I do, with the mirror?""You do not look into it," continued Garth Dalmain, meditatively;"because we KNOW that is a thing you never do.Even when you put on that hat, and tie those ribbons--Miss Champion, I wish you would hold my hand--in a bow under your chin, you don't consult the mirror.But you shall sit with it in your left hand, your elbow resting on an Eastern table of black ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl.You will turn it from you, so that it reflects something exactly in front of you in the imaginary foreground.You will be looking at this unseen object with an expression of sublime affection.And in the mirror I will paint a vivid, brilliant, complete reflection, minute, but perfect in every detail, of your scarlet macaw on his perch.We will call it 'Reflections,' because one must always give a silly up-to-date title to pictures, and just now one nondescript word is the fashion, unless you feel it needful to attract to yourself the eye of the public, in the catalogue, by calling your picture twenty lines of Tennyson.But when the portrait goes down to posterity as a famous picture, it will figure in the catalogue of the National Gallery as 'The Duchess, the Mirror, and the Macaw.'""Bravo!" said the duchess, delighted."You shall paint it, Dal, in time for next year's Academy, and we will all go and see it."And he did.And they all went.And when they saw it they said: "Ah, of course! There it is; just as we saw it under the cedar at Overdene.""Here comes Simmons with something on a salver," exclaimed the duchess."How that man waddles! Why can't somebody teach him to step out? Jane! You march across this lawn like a grenadier.Can't you explain to Simmons how it's done?...Well? What is it? Ha! Atelegram.Now what horrible thing can have happened? Who would like to guess? I hope it is not merely some idiot who has missed a train."Amid a breathless and highly satisfactory silence, the duchess tore open the orange envelope.
Apparently the shock was of a thorough, though not enjoyable, kind;for the duchess, at all times highly coloured, became purple as she read, and absolutely inarticulate with indignation.Jane rose quietly, looked over her aunt's shoulder, read the long message, and returned to her seat.
