My mother came from Yorkshire.
'I think it must have been nightmare I had last night, Polly,' I said as
I finished my breakfast, and began to put all in order for my morning's
work.
[Illustration]
Chapter VII
OVER THE LINE
I was at my painting early the next morning, for the sun was shining
brightly, and the air was wonderfully clear. My portrait of little Jack
sitting in the boat promised to be a great success. As I was hard at
work upon it that day, I heard a voice behind me.
'I never thought my little lad would figure in the Royal Academy,' said
the voice.
It was the voice of Jack's father--the voice which had moved me so
deeply, the voice which had made me tremble, only the day before. Even
as he spoke I felt inclined to run away, lest he should ask me again
that terrible question which had been ringing in my ears ever since.
Even as I talked to him about my picture, and even as he answered in
pleasant and friendly tones, through them all and above them all came
the words which were burnt in upon my memory: 'What are the depths, the
fearful depths, to which you are being drawn?'
'I hope my children are not troublesome to you,' he said.
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