Fenwick's Career

enwick was watchin

f Green Nab Cottage, and was looking anxiously along the p

tion ago-stood on a narrow shelf that juts out from the face of

the valley; and sounds of water came from the fell-sides. Everywhere lines of broad and flowing harmony, moulded by some subtle union of rock and climate and immemorial age into a mountain beauty which is the peculiar possession of Westmoreland and Cumberland. Neither awful, nor yet trivial; neither too soft for dignity, nor too rugged for delight. The Westmoreland hills are the remains of an infinitely older world-giants decayed, but of a great race and ancestry; they have the finish, the delicate or noble loveliness-one might almost say the manner-that comes of lon

e bursting. Half a mile eastward the woods were all in soft bloom, carpeted with windflowers and bluebells. Here, but for the larches, and the few sycamores and yews that guard each lonely farm, all was naked fell and pas

scanty list of small commissions ahead, which she knew by heart; the uncertainty of the year before t

of the brow, the lids and lashes, and the clear brown eye itself were indeed of a most subtle and distinguished beauty; they accounted, perhaps, for the attention with which most persons of t

ne photographs which now, since the spread of the later Pre-Raphaelites and the opening of the Grosvenor Gallery, were to be seen even in the shops of country towns. There was a literary gentleman in Kendal who said that Mrs. Fenwick was like one

l in Hawkshead, had come to spend a Saturday afternoon with her old pupil, Phoebe Fenwick. A masterful-looking woman-ample in figure, with a mouth of decisi

o finish,' said Phoebe,

rr

upper, and that Daisy, the little servant, was feeding her. Then, sl

from the fast-sinking orb, and then turning them on the ti

nwick s

he'd pay him rent for

ason l

ohn go wasting his time

held moved i

said Mrs. Fenwick, hurriedly. 'And if the weather's too

make a clerk of him at once and have done with it! He told me

cheeks tremb

she said, in a low voice-'and then we'll

holding him back, M

ld him back!' cried the wi

hook an incr

ainting pictures he's a sight too good for, since I came this morning; and we've talked for hours. No-I may as well have it out-I'm a one for pla

wick, stifled. She had broken a sycamore twig

uskin and the simple life; no worldling ever believed more fiercely in the gospel of success. But, let it be said promptly, it was success for others, rarely or never for herself; she despised the friend who could not breast and conquer circumstance; as for her own case, there were matters much more interesting to think of. But she was the gadfly, the spur of all to whom she gave he

picture by Romney had been sold for three thousand pounds! And pray, would he ever have become a great painter at all if he had stuck to Kendal or Dalton-in-Furness all his life?-if he had never been brought in contact with th

ick flushed hotly

it was all right he should desert his wife for thirty years-so-so long as

her companion. The schoolmis

esert you for thirty years!' said the other, wi

the house. At the same moment there was a shout of greeting from below, and Fenwick came into sight on

at once. In moments of excitement a certain foreign look-as some people thought, a gypsyish look-was apt to show itself. The roving eyes, the wild manner, the dancing step betrayed the in most man-b

Miss Anna as they walked up together that he had done with Miss Bella; that old Morrison praised the portr

er die than let her father send it. Silly goose! Powdering every time-and sucking her lips to make them red-and twisting

irst,' said Miss Anna,

t, John-w

ment veiled and furtive. 'Oh, there'

e green ledges ou

-port

ed unce

said Miss Anna, waving an ironical hand t

in a low tone, and with a look over his shoulder at the open window of the cotta

eyebrows. 'Oh-oh!'

an by "at once

-I won't l

nna po

say Phoebe c

e,' he said, in a hasty

ar around her the ghosts of words which had but just passed betwee

of the little garden-arguing, p

ed came Phoebe's silver

, John? Supp

iss Anna

ck to his companion, finge

rrison, John?' said Phoebe, presently,

all right. Phoebe, that's a

rose in the

t,' said Phoebe, sob

Carrie that!-it'l

morsels from his own plate. The child's face-pink mouth and

e little greedy puss! I

way upstairs. At the door of the little parlour, while Phoebe was at his shoulder, wiping away the child's tears and cooing to it, Fenwick suddenly turned his head and kissed

He showed himself, in fact, intellectually at ease, expansive, and, at times, amazingly arrogant. For instance, in discussing a paragraph about the Academy in the London letter of the Westmoreland Gazette, he fired up and paced the room, haranguing his listener in a loud, eager voice. Of course she knew-every one knew-that all the best men and all the coming forces were now outside the Academy. Millais,

reation of men who had learnt to draw

at the goal which Miss Anna-sitting before him, arms folded, her strong old face touch

ctures back int

Anna, dryly. 'I thin

say it. But you'v

ed uncom

to the Gazette,' he said, evading her dire

oebe, anxiously. She was sitting u

upon her a

hy, pl

t you a commission. Don't you remember-

y. It struck Miss Anna that she

paint his children who'd written such a violent article. As if I wanted

d Phoebe. 'And oh, I had co

compared to speaking to one's

at the two women, felt them unsympathe

give us some m

opened the little pianette

ling. After a little, Fenwick listened restlessly, his brow frowning, his fi

d, went upstairs. The two others were s

with a book before him-lost in anxious and exci

mping up. 'That's all righ

air; then going to the window, which was open, she leaned

l,' said Fenwick; 'I'

na was upstairs, and in that tin

round his companion, a

its base on the valley floor to the dark cliffs of Pavey Ark. Not a light was visible anywhere. Their little cottage on its shelf, with the r

hurried beside them. Soft sounds of wind, rising and falling along the mountain or stirring amid last year's bracken, pursued them, till they reac

p them nervously into the water. Phoebe, beside him, clasped her hands round h

on's offered to le

e sta

ght perha

me to go to Lo

got th

ghed: 'He didn't pay me for the portrait, though. Th

ile

round and took

think? Are you going to let me go

he said, hoarsely. 'It's wh

ion: Husba

ere's the harm? We can't

pting to make a living as an artist out of Westmoreland-out of any plac

that would be a dog's life. You wouldn't want to see me at that for ever, would you, Phoebe? Or at painting portraits at five gu

upon a rock, echo through the ghyll. There was something magnificent in the gesture, and a movement, half thrill

oing to leave ba

she kept the sob in it restrained. Fenwick felt the warmth and softness of her young body; the fresh fa

aded-'till I get my footing. One

could get two rooms, which would

st live with artists-I must get to know all sorts of people who might help me on. If you and Carrie came up-just at first-I couldn't do the best for myself-I couldn't

ding her at arm's length, scrutini

s, of course you'll succeed-if

hat-you're always so afraid of people. It does a man no harm

with her hand-'I could look after money. You're dreadfully bad about money, John. Directly y

hment; feeling at the same time the tremblin

much younger than I; and that of course a man knows much more about business than a young thing like you can. How, I should like to know,

ar when we were in such straits, and all our things were nearly sold up, you let me take over things, and keep th

nees, choked by the sob s

don't say you haven't got a head, Phoebe-why, I know you have!

ked up

o think about little things-you'd have to

t his

d, with a laugh. 'I'm not such an idiot as all tha

ed her a

ted, faintly. 'And however ar

back to him

on't you hinder me, Phoebe! and I shall be a rich man before we can look

, as though to coerce he

released

ver be rich. We

hat hand. If it gets a fair chance it's got money in it-and fame-and happiness for

eating his query. It was evident, curious

e in you,' she said

's-other

iteously round him. 'Oh, John, John-for a year

?' he cried, half in wrath, half ast

erhaps a place at a school-and you didn't seem to want anything more. And now you're so ambitious-so ambitious, John-I'-she turned her head away-'I sometimes feel when I'm with you-I can't breathe-it's just burning you away-and me too. You've found out what you can

the summer and possibly for the winter, till he had got a footing. He would come up to see her as often as wor

my father,' she

why

at he married a second

as most friendly when w

y, of cours

Mrs. Gibson for six months and more, John, so do

tream like one who sees visions of the future. The beauty of her faintly visible h

ck. You little silly, c

ways be wa

u'll be in London making smart friends-and dinin

e cried, with a great, good-humoured

ith low-voiced passion; 'and you know v

episodes in their married life-slight, but quite sufficient to show that

d his hand and kissed it. 'The women make a fool of you, John,' she said, '

the love of wife for husband and partly an exquisite maternity-the same feeling she g

behind the pikes; only the stars glimmered on the great side of the fell, on solitary yews black upon the night, on lines of wall, on dim, mysterious paths, old as the hills themselves, on the softly chiding water. The May night breathed upon them, calmed them, brought out the better self of each. They returned to the cottage like chil

RT

ND

ebbles from its brink In sport to send its imaged skies pell-mell, (And mine own image, had I noted well!) Was that my