第23章

FATHER BENWELL HITS.

ART has its trials as well as its triumphs.It is powerless to assert itself against the sordid interests of everyday life.The greatest book ever written, the finest picture ever painted, appeals in vain to minds preoccupied by selfish and secret cares.

On entering Lord Loring's gallery, Father Benwell found but one person who was not looking at the pictures under false pretenses.

Innocent of all suspicion of the conflicting interests whose struggle now centered in himself, Romayne was carefully studying the picture which had been made the pretext for inviting him to the house.He had bowed to Stella, with a tranquil admiration of her beauty; he had shaken hands with Penrose, and had said some kind words to his future secretary--and then he had turned to the picture, as if Stella and Penrose had ceased from that moment to occupy his mind.

"In your place," he said quietly to Lord Loring, "I should not buy this work.""Why not?"

"It seems to me to have the serious defect of the modern English school of painting.A total want of thought in the rendering of the subject, disguised under dexterous technical tricks of the brush.When you have seen one of that man's pictures, you have seen all.He manufactures--he doesn't paint."Father Benwell came in while Romayne was speaking.He went through the ceremonies of introduction to the master of Vange Abbey with perfect politeness, but a little absently.His mind was bent on putting his suspicion of Stella to the test of confirmation.Not waiting to be presented, he turned to her with the air of fatherly interest and chastened admiration which he well knew how to assume in his intercourse with women.

"May I ask if you agree with Mr.Romayne's estimate of the picture?" he said, in his gentlest tones.

She had heard of him, and of his position in the house.It was quite needless for Lady Loring to whisper to her, "Father Benwell, my dear!" Her antipathy identified him as readily as her sympathy might have identified a man who had produced a favorable impression on her."I have no pretension to be a critic," she answered, with frigid politeness."I only know what I personally like or dislike."The reply exactly answered Father Benwell's purpose.It diverted Romayne's attention from the picture to Stella.The priest had secured his opportunity of reading their faces while they were looking at each other.

"I think you have just stated the true motive for all criticism,"Romayne said to Stella."Whether we only express our opinions of pictures or books in the course of conversation or whether we assert them at full length, with all the authority of print, we are really speaking, in either case, of what personally pleases or repels us.My poor opinion of that picture means that it says nothing to Me.Does it say anything to You?"He smiled gently as he put the question to her, but there was no betrayal of emotion in his eyes or in his voice.Relieved of anxiety, so far as Romayne was concerned, Father Benwell looked at Stella.