Raycie was to have given thatautumn to inaugurate
the gallery.
Reedy, the agent, who had unpacked thepictures.
Yes, my dear Lewis, I wish to create a gallery:a gallery of Heirlooms. And Angelico
yousay did that kind of Noahs Ark soldier in pink armour on gold leaf? There shall
be aRaycie Gallery; and it shall be your mission to get together
itsnucleus.
He had driven to town alone with Lewis, sternly
rebuffing his daughterstimid hints, and Mrs.
Lewiss hopes rose as he followed his parents
limping progress. No; Lewis felt only tolerance and understanding. Malvina has
become a very elegant figure, your sisterstell me. Lewis, though surprised, was not
disconcerted.
The Englishman appeared to think otherwise. Raycie
repeated, prepared to play a part, a considerablepart, in the social life of the
community.
Raycie approved, waving a violet hand which seemed
tobe ripening for a bandage. Raycie made no pretence to book-learning; left THAT,as
he handsomely said, to the professors.
Then with an effort: The Sassoferrato,
then.
Raycie paused, and mopped his flowing forehead. But
that was only the first shock, soon forgotten in the rush of greatertribulation. He
could remember now, quitedistinctly, the day when he had given up even Beatrice
Cenci. Its just what I insist upon yourdoing here and now!
Everything about him, as his son looked back,
seemed narrow,juvenile, almost childish. Well, THERE Ive caught you tripping, my
boy.
But the gods areformidable even when they unbend;
never more so, perhaps, than at suchmoments. He had expected to receive the opposite
impression. There are so many ways stillin which I can economize. They inspected the
pictures, and allof them agreed that.
Raycies satisfaction would have been complete; but
whose is, in thisdisappointing world?
Own up, Lewis; tell me they got it out of you
atcards. He withered Lewis with a last lookfrom the doorstep. Kept himback till the
last because its the gem of the collection, did you? The rest of his property was
left absolutely tohis two daughters.
There IS no Carlo Dolce, said Lewis, white to the
lips.
Once more he cast a slow glance about him.
SaintUrsula did not need to rescue him from HER.
Oh, but its not a Carlo Dolce: its a Piero della
Francesca, sir! Raycie ceased to laugh: he looked at his son with an _expression_
ofunutterable disgust. Everything about him, as his son looked back, seemed
narrow,juvenile, almost childish.
Lewis, though surprised, was not
disconcerted.
Whodyou say John Ruskins father was, now?