Chapter 829:

Can my poor portrait of her, the patient labor I endured in the long and happy days, tell me these things? Ah, in the dim mechanical drawing, there are only a few, in my opinion, how many are there! A beautiful, delicate girl in a beautiful light-colored dress, stroking the leaves of the sketchbook, while raising her head with true innocent blue eyes, this is what the picture can say; maybe all these, even deeper thoughts and The pen can also speak in their language. This woman first gave us life, light, and form to our hazy beauty concept, which filled the void in our spirituality, until she appeared, she was unknown to us. At this time, deep sympathy is obscured by words, almost obscured by thoughts, and besides the charm that can be realized by feeling and expression resources, there are other charms. The mystery of women's beauty will never exceed the scope of all expressions until it is inspired by the deep mystery in our own souls. Then, and then only once, it passed through the narrow area illuminated by the light of the world from the pencil and pen.
Thinking of her, like the first woman you think of, she makes your heart pulse stronger, and she is indifferent to the rest of her sexual behavior. When they meet me, let the frank and frank blue eyes meet you, that is the unparalleled appearance that we all remember. Let her voice speak your favorite music, and make your ears as sweet as mine. In these pages, no matter you walk around, let her footsteps be like other footsteps. Once you beat time, your footsteps will fall. Think of her as the visionary nurse in your fantasy; when she lives in my living woman, she will grow more clearly in you.
When my gaze looked at her for the first time, among the feelings in my heart-familiar feelings that we all know, emerged in most people's hearts, dying in so many lives, and in so few lives The presence of light was restored in the movie-a person who bothered and confused me: a person who seemed strangely inconsistent and irresponsible in the presence of the young lady.
Another impression is the vivid impression of her white face and head, sweet expression and simple behavior, which left a dim impression on me, suggesting that I want something Thoughts. Once, she seemed to want something: in another place, like what I wanted, prevented me from understanding her as expected. When she looked at me, the impression was always the most contradictory. Or to put it another way, when I know the harmony and charm of her face best, and at the same time it is the most troubled by the sense of incompleteness that I cannot find. I can't say anything, want everything, where it is, where it is.
In the first interview with Miss, this kind of peculiar fantasy had the same influence as I thought at the time, which made me feel uneasy. The few welcome words she said made it difficult for me to agree to her usual answer with my own habits. Observing my hesitation, without a doubt, naturally attributed it to my momentary shyness, Miss Halcomb handed over her conversation affairs to herself easily and effortlessly as usual.
"Look there, Mr. Hartwright." She said, pointing to the sketchbook on the table and the delicate little hand still wandering in trivia. "Of course, would you admit that you found your model student? When she heard that you were at home, she grabbed her immeasurable sketchbook and faced the natural nature, eager to start!"
Miss Fairlie smiled happily, her lovely face suddenly burst into bright sunlight, as if it were part of the sunlight above us.
She said: "I shouldn't give credit to myself without the honor I deserve." Her clear and true blue eyes looked at Miss Halcomb and me alternately. "When I was drawing, I realized my ignorance, so that I became scared instead of anxious. Now I know you are here, Mr. Hartlet, and I find myself looking at my sketch like I used to When I was a little girl, in classes, and when I was sadly afraid that I became unfit to be heard."
She confessed to the blank paper very concisely, and with a simple and childish serious attitude, she pulled the sketchbook to the table. Miss Halcomb immediately eliminated the little embarrassment in a determined and thorough manner.
She said: "Good, bad or indifferent, this is the fierce torture of the student's drawing that must be judged by the owner, and its ending is the end. Suppose we put them in the mechanical carriage with us, Laura, and let . Is it the first time to see them under permanent bumps and disturbances? If we can only confuse him through the drive, it is in nature, when he looks up at the scenery, in nature, when he looks up at the scene When I look down at our sketchbook again, we will take him to the last desperate shelter, greet us, and slide his professional finger with our vanity pet feather."
Miss Fairley said: "I hope Mr. Hartwright will not give me any compliments."
"Can I take the risk and ask why you express hope?" I asked.
"Because I will believe what you say to me," she replied simply.
With those few words, she unconsciously gave me the key to the whole role: generous trust in others, in her nature, trust in others grew naively based on her own sense of truth. I knew it intuitively then. I know from experience now.
We just waited to wake up the good Mrs. Versey from where she was still staying at the empty lunch table before entering the driving route we promised. The old lady and the young lady occupied the back seats. The young lady and I sat together in the front. The sketchbook between us was opened. This finally showed in my professional eyes. The lively resolution of the young lady made all serious criticisms of painting, even if I had been arranged to be a volunteer, it could not be eliminated, except for her, her sister and the absurdity of the art practiced by her sisters and ladies. The dialogue I can remember is much easier than the sketches I have seen mechanically. That part of the conversation, especially
Yes! Let me admit that on the first day, the charm I made her appear attracted me from the memories of myself and location. Regarding the question of using pencils and mixing colors, she asked me the most trivial question; the most subtle expression changes in the cute eyes, with a sincere desire to learn from me, so that I can learn everything and find everything I can The things on display attracted my attention more than the most beautiful scene we have ever experienced. When they flow into each other on the sparkling highlands and flat beaches, the light and shadow change the most. At any time, in any situation that is in the interests of mankind, is it not surprising to see that there is almost nothing in the natural world in our lives that can capture our minds? Only in books can we be comforted when we are in trouble in nature, and sympathy in joy. Admiration for the beauty of the inanimate world, even the best for us, is not one of the instincts of our nature. When we were young, none of us had it. No man or woman without guidance owns it. Those who have spent the most precious lives in the ever-changing fantasy world of oceans and land are also those who are least sensitive to all aspects of the natural world. These people are not directly connected to the human interests they call. Our ability to appreciate the beauty of the earth on which we live is that, in fact, this is one of the civilization achievements we have learned as an art; and, except when our minds are the laziest and most boring, each of us Rarely practice this ability. What share of the attraction of nature is in the pleasure or painful interests and emotions of ourselves or our friends? What space do they occupy in the thousands of small personal experiences from one of us to another in word of mouth every day? Everything that our thoughts can guide, everything that we can learn in our hearts, can be achieved with equal certainty, equal profits, and equal satisfaction with ourselves in the poorest and richest prospects that can be shown on earth. There must be a reason for the innate sympathy between this creature and the surrounding creatures. This reason may be found in the vastly different fate of humans and their regions. The most magnificent mountain view that the eye could see was wiped out. The smallest human benefit that a pure heart can feel is given immortality.
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