by Vernon Lee
1
That sketch up there with the boy's cap? Yes; that's the same woman. Iwonder whether you could guess who she was. A singular being, is she not?The most marvellous creature, quite, that I have ever met: a wonderfulelegance, exotic, far-fetched, poignant; an artificial perverse sort ofgrace and research in every outline and movement and arrangement of headand neck, and hands and fingers. Here are a lot of pencil sketches I madewhile I was preparing to paint her portrait. Yes; there's nothing but herin the whole sketchbook. Mere scratches, but they may give some idea of hermarvellous, fantastic kind of grace. Here she is leaning over thestaircase, and here sitting in the swing. Here she is walking quickly outof the room. That's her head. You see she isn't really handsome; herforehead is too big, and her nose too short. This gives no idea of her. Itwas altogether a question of movement. Look at the strange cheeks, hollowand rather flat; well, when she smiled she had the most marvellous dimpleshere. There was something exquisite and uncanny about it. Yes; I began thepicture, but it was never finished. I did the husband first. I wonder whohas his likeness now? Help me to move these pictures away from the wall.Thanks. This is her portrait; a huge wreck. I don't suppose you can makemuch of it; it is merely blocked in, and seems quite mad. You see my ideawas to make her leaning against a wall--there was one hung with yellow thatseemed almost brown--so as to bring out the silhouette.
It was very singular I should have chosen that particular wall. It doeslook rather insane in this condition, but I like it; it has something ofher. I would frame it and hang it up, only people would ask questions. Yes;you have guessed quite right--it is Mrs. Oke of Okehurst. I forgot you hadrelations in that part of the country; besides, I suppose the newspaperswere full of it at the time. You didn't know that it all took place undermy eyes? I can scarcely believe now that it did: it all seems so distant,vivid but unreal, like a thing of my own invention. It really was muchstranger than any one guessed. People could no more understand it than theycould understand her. I doubt whether any one ever understood Alice Okebesides myself. You mustn't think me unfeeling. She was a marvellous,weird, exquisite creature, but one couldn't feel sorry for her. I felt muchsorrier for the wretched creature of a husband. It seemed such anappropriate end for her; I fancy she would have liked it could she haveknown. Ah! I shall never have another chance of painting such a portrait asI wanted. She seemed sent me from heaven or the other place. You have neverheard the story in detail? Well, I don't usually mention it, because peopleare so brutally stupid or sentimental; but I'll tell it you. Let me see.It's too dark to paint any more today, so I can tell it you now. Wait; Imust turn her face to the wall. Ah, she was a marvellous creature!