answered--

"That is a young relative of mine, a second cousin: the grandson, in
fact," he added, looking at Dorothea, "of the lady whose portrait you
have been noticing, my aunt Julia."

The young man had laid down his sketch-book and risen. His bushy
light-brown curls, as well as his youthfulness, identified him at once
with Celia's apparition.

"Dorothea, let me introduce to you my cousin, Mr. Ladislaw. Will, this
is Miss Brooke."

The cousin was so close now, that, when he lifted his hat, Dorothea
could see a pair of gray eves rather near together, a delicate
irregular nose with a little ripple in it, and hair falling backward;
but there was a mouth and chin of a more prominent, threatening aspect
than belonged to the type of the grandmother's miniature. Young
Ladislaw did not feel it necessary to smile, as if he were charmed with
this introduction to his future second cousin and her relatives; but
wore rather a pouting air of discontent.

"You are an artist, I see," said Mr. Brooke, taking up the sketch-book
and turning it over in his unceremonious fashion.

"No, I only sketch a little. There is nothing fit to be seen there,"
said young Ladislaw, coloring, perhaps with temper rather than modesty.

"Oh, come, this is a nice bit, now. I did a little in this way myself
at one time, you know. Look here, now; this is what I call a nice
thing, done with what we used to call _brio_." Mr. Brooke held out
towards the two girls a large colored sketch of stony ground and trees,
with a pool.

"I am no judge of these things," said Dorothea, not coldly, but with an
eager deprecation of the appeal to her. "You know, uncle, I never see
the beauty of those pictures which you say are so much praised. They
are a language I do not understand. I suppose there is some relation
between pictures and nature which I am too ignorant to feel--just as
you see what a Greek sentence stands for which means nothing to me."
Dorothea looked up at Mr. Casaubon, who bowed his head towards her,
while Mr. Brooke said, smiling nonchalantly--

"Bless me, now, how different people are! But you had a bad style of
teaching, you know--else this is just the thing for girls--sketching,
fine art and so on. But you took to drawing plans; you don't
understand morbidezza, and that kind of thing. You will come to my
house, I hope, and I will show you what I did in this way," he
continued, turning to young Ladislaw, who had to be recalled from