As has been said, Porter Bigelow was not a snob, and he was a
gentleman. But even a gentleman can, when swayed by primal emotions,
convince himself that high motives rule, even while performing acts of
doubtful honor.
It was thus that Porter proved to himself that his interest in Roger
Poole's past was purely that of the protector and friend of Mary
Ballard. Mary must not throw herself away. Mary must be guarded
against the tragedy of marriage with a man who was not worthy. And who
could do this better than he?
In pursuance of his policy of protection he took his way one afternoon
in July to Colin's studio.
"I'm staying in town," Colin told him, "because of Miss Jeliffe. Her
father is held by the long Session. I'm painting another picture of
her, and fixing up these rooms in the interim--how do you like them?"
In his furnishing, Colin had broken away from conventional tradition.
Here were no rugs hung from balconies, no rich stuffs and suits of
armor. It was simply a cool little place, with a big window
overlooking one of the parks. Its walls were tinted gray, and there
were a few comfortable rattan chairs, with white linen cushions. A
portrait of Delilah dominated the room. He had painted her in the
costume which she had worn at the garden party--in all the glory of
cool greens and faint pink, and heavenly blue.
Porter surveying the portrait said, slowly, "You said that you had
painted--other women?"
"Yes--but none so satisfactory as Miss Jeliffe."
"There was the little saint--in red."
"You remember that? It is just a small canvas."
"You said you'd show it to me."
Colin, rummaging in a second room, called back, "I've found it, and
here's another, of a woman who seemed to fit in with a Botticelli
scheme. She was the long lank type."
Porter was not interested in the Botticelli woman, nor in Colin's
experiments. He wanted to see Roger Poole's wife, so he gave scant
attention to Colin's enthusiastic comments on the first canvas which he
displayed.
"She has the long face. D'you see? And the thin long body. But I
couldn't make her a success. That's the joy of Delilah Jeliffe. She
has the temperament of an actress and simply lives in her part. But
this woman couldn't. And lobster suppers and lovely lank ladies are
not synonymous--so I gave her up."
But Porter was reaching for the other sketch.
With it in his hand, he surveyed the small creature with the angel
face. In her dress of pure clear red, with the touch of gold in the
halo, and a lyre in her hand, she seemed lighted by divine fire, above
the earth, appealing.