I was not left without society. My landlord had a very pretty little
daughter, whom we shall call Lizzie. If I had made any notes at the
time, I might be able to tell you something definite of her
appearance. But faces have a trick of growing more and more
spiritualised and abstract in the memory, until nothing remains of
them but a look, a haunting expression; just that secret quality in a
face that is apt to slip out somehow under the cunningest painter's
touch, and leave the portrait dead for the lack of it. And if it is
hard to catch with the finest of camel's-hair pencils, you may think
how hopeless it must be to pursue after it with clumsy words. If I
say, for instance, that this look, which I remember as Lizzie, was
something wistful that seemed partly to come of slyness and in part
of simplicity, and that I am inclined to imagine it had something to
do with the daintiest suspicion of a cast in one of her large eyes, I
shall have said all that I can, and the reader will not be much
advanced towards comprehension. I had struck up an acquaintance with
this little damsel in the morning, and professed much interest in her
dolls, and an impatient desire to see the large one which was kept
locked away for great occasions.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182