There Tatham said something to
Lydia, and they moved away together. His mother looked after them. Tatham
was leading the way toward the door in the farther wall which led to his
own sitting-room. Their young faces were turned toward each other. The
girl's shyness seemed to have broken up. She was now talking fast, with
smiles. Ah, no doubt they would have plenty to say to each other, as soon
as they were together.
It was one of the bitter-sweet moments of life. Lady Tatham steadied
herself.
"That is a sketch," she said mechanically, "by Burne-Jones, for one of
the Pygmalion and Galatea series. We have one or two others on the same
subject."
Mrs. Penfold clasped her small hands in rapture.
"Oh! but _how_ interesting! Do you know I was once Galatea? When I was a
girl I used to act a great deal. Well, not act exactly--for I didn't have
to speak. I never could remember my lines. But I had two great parts.
There was Hermione, in 'The Winter's Tale'; and Galatea. I made hundreds
of pounds for hospitals--hundreds. It's not vain now, is it, to say one
was pretty in one's youth?"
"You like remembering it? Some people don't."
"Ah, no, that's wrong! I'd liked to have been beautiful once, if I'm old
and ugly now," cried Mrs. Penfold with fervour. "Of course"--she looked
shyly at the sketch--"I had beautiful draperies on. My Galatea was not
like that."
"Draperies?" Lady Tatham laughed. "Pygmalion had only just made
her--there had been no time to dress her.
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