"Like! Like whom? I did not observe it closely."
"You did, Mr. Rivers."
He almost started at my sudden and strange abruptness: he looked at
me astonished. "Oh, that is nothing yet," I muttered within. "I
don't mean to be baffled by a little stiffness on your part; I'm
prepared to go to considerable lengths." I continued, "You observed
it closely and distinctly; but I have no objection to your looking
at it again," and I rose and placed it in his hand.
"A well-executed picture," he said; "very soft, clear colouring;
very graceful and correct drawing."
"Yes, yes; I know all that. But what of the resemblance? Who is it
like?"
Mastering some hesitation, he answered, "Miss Oliver, I presume."
"Of course. And now, sir, to reward you for the accurate guess, I
will promise to paint you a careful and faithful duplicate of this
very picture, provided you admit that the gift would be acceptable
to you. I don't wish to throw away my time and trouble on an
offering you would deem worthless."
He continued to gaze at the picture: the longer he looked, the
firmer he held it, the more he seemed to covet it. "It is like!" he
murmured; "the eye is well managed: the colour, light, expression,
are perfect. It smiles!"
"Would it comfort, or would it wound you to have a similar painting?
Tell me that. When you are at Madagascar, or at the Cape, or in
India, would it be a consolation to have that memento in your
possession? or would the sight of it bring recollections calculated
to enervate and distress?"
He now furtively raised his eyes: he glanced at me, irresolute,
disturbed: he again surveyed the picture.
"That I should like to have it is certain: whether it would be
judicious or wise is another question."
Since I had ascertained that Rosamond really preferred him, and that
her father was not likely to oppose the match, I--less exalted in my
views than St. John--had been strongly disposed in my own heart to
advocate their union. It seemed to me that, should he become the
possessor of Mr. Oliver's large fortune, he might do as much good
with it as if he went and laid his genius out to wither, and his
strength to waste, under a tropical sun. With this persuasion I now
answered "As far as I can see, it would be wiser and more judicious if you
were to take to yourself the original at once."