They were people to be loved, but loved without a
thought. Their wings had never grown, nor their eyes coveted a wider
prospect than could be seen from the parent nest. The friendly
visitant could not discompose them by a remark indicating any
expansion of mind or life. Much as I enjoyed the beauty of the country
around, when out in the free air, my hours within the house would have
been dull enough but for the contemplation of this picture. While the
round of common-place songs was going on, and the whist-players were
at their work, I used to sit and wonder how this being, so sovereign
in the fire of her nature, so proud in her untamed loveliness, could
ever have come of their blood. Her eye, from the canvas, even, seemed
to annihilate all things low or little, and able to command all
creation in search of the object of its desires. She had not found it,
though; I felt this on seeing her now. She, the queenly woman, the
Boadicea of a forlorn hope, as she seemed born to be, the only woman
whose face, to my eye, had ever given promise of a prodigality of
nature sufficient for the entertainment of a poet's soul, was--I saw
it at a glance--a captive in her life, and a beggar in her affections.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233