the fortunes of oliver horn-第40章
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of the chairs on the bare floor or the shifting of an easel。
Two or three times during the evening the old professor emerged from his room and overlooked his drawing； patiently pointing out the defects and as patiently correcting them。 He was evidently impressed with Oliver's progress； for he remarked to Miss Grant； in a low voice：
〃The new student draws wellhe is doing first… rate；〃 and passed on。 Oliver caught the expression of satisfaction on the professor's face and interpreted it as in some way applying to his work； although he did not catch the words。
The old man rarely had to criticise Margaret's work。 The suggestions made to her came oftener from the students than from the professor himself or any one of the visiting critics。 In these criticisms； not only of her own work but of the others； everyone took part； each leaving his stool and helping in the discussion； when the work of the night was over。 Fred's more correct eye； for instance； would be invaluable to Jack Bedford； the ex…sign…painter； who was struggling with the profile of the Gladiator； or Margaret； who could detect at a glance the faintest departure from the lines of the original； would shorten a curve on Oliver's drawing； or he in turn would advise her about the depth of a shadow or the spot for a high light。
As the nights went by and Oliver studied her the closer； the New England girl became all the more inexplicable to him。 She was； he could not but admit； like no other woman he had ever met； certainly not in his present surroundings。 She really seemed to belong to some fabled raceone of the Amazons； or Rhine maidens； or Norse queens for whom knights couched their lances。 It was useless to compare her to any one of the girls about Kennedy Square； for she had nothing in common with any one of them。 Was it because she was unhappy among her own people that she had thus exiled herself from her home； or had some love…affair blighted her life？ Or could it be； as Fred had suggested； that she was willing to undergo all these discomforts and privations simply for love of her art？ As this possible solution of the vexing problem became established in his mind； with the vision of Margaret herself before him； the blood mounted to his cheeks and an uncontrollable thrill of enthusiasm swept over him。 He could forgive her anything if this last motive had really controlled and shaped her life。
Had he seen the more closely and with prophetic vision； he would have discerned； in this Norse queen with the golden hair； the mother of a long line of daughters； who； in the days to follow； would hang their triumphant shields beside those of their brothers； winning equal recognition in salon and gallery and conferring equal honor on their country。 But Oliver's vision was no keener than that of anyone else about him。 It was only the turn of Margaret's head that caught the young student's eye and the wealth of her brown…gold hair。 With the future he had no concern。
What attracted him most of all in this woman who had violated all the known traditions of Kennedy Square； was a certain fearlessness of manneran independence； a perfect ingenuousness； and a freedom from any desire to interest the students in herself。 When she looked at any one of them； it was never from under drooping eyelids； as Sue would have done； nor with that coquettish； alluring glance to which he had always been accustomed。 She looked straight at them with unflinching eyes that said； 〃I can trust you； and WILL。〃 He had never seen exactly that look except in the portrait of his uncle's grandmother by Sir Peter Lelythe picture he had always loved。 Strange to say； too； the eyes of the portrait were Margaret's eyes； and so was the color of the hair。
No vexed problems entered Margaret's head regarding the very engaging young gentleman who sat behind HER stool。 He merely represented to her another studentthat was all； the little band was small enough； and she was glad to see the new ones come。 She noticed； it is true； certain unmistakable differencesa peculiar； soft cadence in his voice as the words slipped from his lips without their final g's； a certain deference to herselfstanding until she regained her seat； an attention which she attributed at first to embarrassment over his new surroundings and to his desire to please。 She noticed； too； a certain grace in his movementsa grace that attracted her； especially in the way with which he used his hands； and in the way in which he threw his head up when he laughed； but even these differences ceased to interest her after the first night of their meeting。
But it did not occur to her that he came from any different stock than the others about her； or that his blood might or might not be a shade bluer than her own。 What had really impressed her more than anything elseand this only flashed into her mind while she was looking in the glass one night at her own were his big white teeth； white as grains of corn； and the cleanliness of his hands and nails。 She liked these things about him。 Some of the fingers that rested on her drawing…board were often more like clothes…pins than fingers； and shocked her not a little； some； too； were stained with acids； and one or more with printer's ink that no soap could remove。
Before the evening was over Oliver became one of the class…room appointmentsa young man who sat one stool behind her and was doing fairly well with his first attempt； and who would some day be able to make a creditable drawing if he had patience and application。
At the beginning of the second week a new student appearedor rather an old one； who had been laid up at home with a cold。 When Oliver arrived he found him in Margaret's seat； his easel standing where hers had been。 He had a full…length drawing of the Miloevidently the work of daysnearly finished on his board。 Oliver was himself a little ahead of timeahead of either Margaret or Fred； and had noticed the new…comer when he entered； the room being nearly empty。 Jack Bedford was already at work。
〃Horn；〃 Jack cried； and beckoned to Oliver 〃see the beggar in Miss Grant's seat。 Won't there be a jolly row when she comes in？〃
Margaret entered a moment later； her portfolio under her arm； and stood taking in the situation。 Then she walked straight to her former seat； and said； in a firm but kindly tone：
〃This is my place； sir。 I've been at work here for a week。 You see my drawing is nearly done。〃
The young man looked up。 He toiled all day in a lithographer's shop； and these precious nights in the loft were his only glimpses of happiness。 He sat without his coat； his shirt…sleeves liberally smeared with the color…stains of his trade。
〃Well； it's my place； too。 I sat here a week before I was taken sick；〃 he said； in a slightly indignant tone； looking into Margaret's face in astonishment。
〃But if you did；〃 continued Margaret； 〃you see I am nearly through。 I can't take another seat； for I'll lose the angle。 I can finish in an hour if you will please give me this place to…night。 You can work just as well by sitting a few feet farther along。〃
The lithographer； without replying； turned from her impatiently； bent over his easel； picked up a fresh bit of charcoal and corrected a line on the Milo's shoulder。 So far as he was concerned the argument was closed。
Margaret stood patiently。 She thought at first he was merely adding a last touch to his drawing before granting her request。
〃Will you let me have the seat？〃 she asked。
〃No；〃 he blurted out。 He was still bending over his drawing； his eyes fixed on the work。 He did not even look up。 〃I'm going to stay here until I finish。 You know the rules as well as I do。 I wouldn't take your seatwhat do you want to take mine for？〃 There was no animosity in his voice。 He spoke as if announcing a fact。
The words had hardly left his lips when there came the sound of a chair being quickly pushed back； and Oliver stood beside Margaret。 His eyes were flashing； his right shirt…cuff was rolled back； the bit of charcoal still between his fingers。 Every muscle of his body was tense with anger。 Margaret's quick instinct took in the situation at a glance。 She saw Oliver's wrath and she knew its cause。
〃Don't； Mr。 Horn； pleaseplease！
