Armorel of Lyonesse

d boy and the ancient school-where he has been fagged and bullied and flogged, on this last day but one looks round with a choking throat upon the dingy walls and the b

of repentance, will probably prove cold to him. How much more, then, when one looks around on

something more to be sketched, some fresh excuse for staying in a house where this young man lived from the first as if he had been there all his life and belonged to the fam

they returned: in the evening, at seven o'clock, the table was pushed back: the old serving people came in; the fire was stirred into animation; Armorel played the old-fashioned tunes; and the ancient lady rallied, and sat up, and talked, her mind in the past. All the days alike, yet each one differing from its neighbours. There is no monotony, though place and people remain exactly the same, when there is the semblance of variety. For, besides the discovery of so many curious and interesting islands, this fortunate young man, as we have seen, discovered that his daily companion, though so young-'only a child'-was a girl of wonderful quickness and ready sympathy. A young artist wants sympathy-it is necessary

ng in Grinsey Sound, with Shipman's Head behind her: or she was standing on the sea-weed at low water under the mighty rock of Castle Bryher: or she was standing upright in the low room, violin in hand, her face and figure crimsoned in the red firelight: or she was standing in the porch between the verbena-trees, the golden figure-head smiling benevolently upon her, and the old ships lanthorn swinging overhead with an inno

staying there. Now the end had come: he must go back to London, where all the men and most of the women have their own shows to run, and there is not enough sympathy to go round: back to what the young artist, he who has as yet exhibited little and sold nothing, calls his Work-putting a capital letter to it, like the young clergyman. Perhaps he did not understand that under the eyes of a girl who knew nothing about Art he had done really b

ing their elders talk: but Armorel's elders never talked. Other girls, again, learn from conversation with companions: but Armorel had no companions. And they learn from the shops in the street, the people who walk about, from the church, the theatre, the shows: but Armorel had no better street than the main street of Hugh Town. And they learn from society: but this girl had none. And they learn from newspapers, magazines, and novels: but Armorel had none of these. No voice, no sound of the outer world reached Alexandra Selkirk of Samson. Juan Fernandez itself was not more cut off from men and women. Therefore, in her seclusion and her ignorance, this young man came to her like another Apollo or a Vishnu at least-a revelation of the

one to a dinner-party or sat in a drawing-room: you cannot play lawn-tennis; you know none of the arts feminine: yo

ngs that make up? Do you mea

bug, because society is very pleasant, only, I suppose, one must not expect too much from it. Your real compensations, Armorel, are of another kind. You can fiddle like a jolly sailor, all of the olden time. If you were to carry that fiddle of yours on to the Commo

d you think

such a genius as yours for puddings and pies, cakes and biscuits. I now understand that there is more wanted, in this confection, than industry and application. It is an art. Every art affords scope for genius born not made. The true-the really artistic-administration of spice and sugar, milk, eggs, butter, and flour requires real genius-such as yours, my child. And as to the still-room, there isn't such a thing left, I believe, in

he hung her head in sadness too deep for tears. 'That is why you say all these

An ordinary man is not supposed to know anything about dress, but an artist has always to consider it. There are certainly other girls-thousands o

to cut out.' But the assurance of th

and wanted nothing but a little instruction. This was a fresh discovery. 'That you should have the gift of the pencil is delightful to think of. The pencil, you see, is like the Jinn-I fear you have no Jinn on Samson-who could do almost anything for those who knew how to command his obedience,

he replied, obediently, bu

elves, and have picked out some books for you. There is a volume of Cowper and of P

ing you wish me to

ou that. But I don't know what to send you. Novels are supposed to represent life; but then they pre-suppose a knowledge of the

ad all the books and learned to draw, shall I have grown

is not reading. But--' He l

ll me-on Sams

ented a maiden in the first blossom of womanhood-tall and shapely. She was dressed in a robe of white wool thrown over her left shoulder and gathered at the waist by a simple belt of brown leather: a white linen vest was seen below the wool: round her neck was a golden torque: behind her was the setting sun: she stood upon the highest of a low pile of granite boulders, round the feet of which were spread the ye

apery was not complete: as yet it was a

ers-no doubt the ladies of the family went dressed in the very, very best. I wonder whether in those days the King's daughter was barefooted. The caliga, I think-the leather sandal-would have been early i

talked, Armorel making no reply

he sun there spreads out a fan of light which strikes the waters and sets them aflame in a long broad road from the heavens to your feet, O child of Lyonesse. Outside this road of light the waters are dull and gloomy: in the sky the coloured belt of light fades gradually into soft yellows, clear greens, and azure blues. A strange sunset! A strange effect of light! Armorel,

ing motionless, her lef

re is always more in it than the wisest man knows. That is the proof of genius. That is why I long all day for the mysterious power of putting into my work the soul of everyone who looks upon it-as well as my own soul. When you come to stand before a great picture, Armorel, perhaps you will understand what I mean. You will find your hea

eply. It was as if he w

e-but I don't know-- There are already heaps of colour-colour of sky and of water, of the granite with the yellow lichen, and of brown and yellow fern and of heather faded-- No-you shall be all in

e to hear

mber than the sun of St. John's Wood. If I have caught aright-or something like it-the light that is around you and about you, Armorel-- The sun in your left hand is like the red light of the candle through the closed fingers. So-I can do no more-Arm

vas and at model once more with jealousy and suspicion. If he had passed over som

well as I can see! Come down, child; you are

r eminence, and stood beside

She seeks the secrets of the future, perhaps. She looks for the coming of the Perfect Knight, perhaps. She expects the Heaven that waits for every maiden-in this w

e you have painted, Roland. You say it is a picture of me-just to please and flatter me. There is my f

ndeed,' he replied. 'If you had seen nothing but yourself-your own s

here beside this unfinished picture, glowing with the though

husiasm for his work was at its fiercest: that is, when the early studies are beginning to bear fruit, when the hand has acquired command of the pencil and can control the brush, and when the eye is already trained to colour. It was at a time

l go away and leave me.' The tears welled up in her eyes. Why s

nnot believe that you will stay

stay altogether, Roland? You can paint here. Have we made you happy? Are yo

ink of you left alone with these old people, with no companions and no friends. The time

nd void of culture. This beautiful child, who might have been a Princess-she

People would laugh at me. I would rather stay here always, if you were with me. Then we wou

both grow old. Think of that. Think of two old people going about sailing among the islands for ever: I, like Justinian Tryeth,

hills and rocks-and the sunshine is always the same. And when we die there will be a new heaven and a new earth-you can read it in the Book of Revelation-but no more sea, no more sea. That I cannot understand. How could ang

u get your wi

hat w

yself. Men are selfish pigs. We should have talked about nothing but you.

a great deal to tell me. It was you who taught me tha

sing thought. Such things

hands in her lap, looking at him serious

esolved that I will try to grow to my full height. You are going away to-morrow,

an I give yo

ve up all your life to your work: when you have grown as tall as you can, everybody will congratulate you,

ething more in yo

the very best actual girl of all the girls you know-the most perfect girl, mind: she must be a

hould not look to the actual girls I know for the best girl at all. There is, however'-he pulled his shadowy moustache, looking very wise-'a most wonderful girl-I confess that I have never met h

at is, if she can

of certain qualities. As for actual girls, there are any number whom one knows in a way-one can distinguish them-I

irl whom you do know, thoug

can. As for h

ace,' she interru

Besides, you can look in the gla

,' said Armorel, s

essed. He only dresses for warmth. In any dress and in any rags a handsome man looks well. But not a woman. Her dress either ruins her beauty or it heightens it. A woman must always, and at all ages, look as beautiful as she can. Therefore, she arranges her clothes so as to set off her beauty when she is young: to make h

ed,' his pupil repeated.

e understands music, and plays on some instrument. She knows about art of all kinds-art in painting, sculptures, decorations, poetry, literature, m

eye, and knows good w

bring out the best points of the man she is talking with. Yet when men leave her they fo

now?' Armor

our own set, and every set talks its own language-scientific, artistic, whatever it is. This girl does not pretend to enter int

tic,' Armorel repeated. 'Is she gracious to

are all perfectly well-bred and well-behaved: we

aning another. That is like your fri

e more to say. This girl, howe

is t

s woman. I think she meant that other girls should speak and think well of her. I haven't always remembered the advice, it i

ded gravely. 'I shal

hat is beautiful and good. She hates every

ated. 'Roland, you must have thought a

ly did. He blushed

ind the lovely face. These things are only commonplaces. You yourself, Armorel-you-will shame me, presen

have kissed her forehead. Why not? S

as if he would have

ed up the belt of blue. You have seen your splendid future, Armorel, and you are back in the grey and sun