a personal friend. He was expected to arrive any day in Naples.
The subjects, Cecily had been informed, were natural scenery; the style,
impressionist. Impressionism was no novel term to Cecily, and in Paris she had
had her attention intelligently directed to good work in that kind; she knew, of
course, that, like every other style, it must be judged with reference to its
success in achieving the end proposed. But the first glance at the first of Mr.
Marsh's productions perplexed her. A study on the Roman Campagna, said Madeline.
It might just as well, for all Cecily could determine, have been a study of
cloud-forms, or of a storm at sea, or of anything, or of nothing; nor did there
seem to be any cogent reason why it should be looked at one way up rather than
the other. Was this genius, or impudence?
    »You don't know the Campagna, yet,« remarked Madeline, finding that the
other kept silence. »Of course, you can't appreciate the marvellous truthfulness
of this impression; but it gives you new emotions, doesn't it?«
    Mrs. Lessingham would have permitted herself to reply with a pointed
affirmative. Cecily was too considerate of others' feelings for that, yet had
not the habit of smooth falsehood.
    »I am not very familiar with this kind of work,« she said. »Please let me
just look and think, and tell me your own thoughts about each.«
    Madeline was not displeased. Already she had discovered that in most
directions Miss Doran altogether exceeded her own reach, and that it was not
safe to talk conscious nonsense to her. The tone of modesty seemed unaffected,
and, as Madeline had reasons for trying to believe in Clifford Marsh, it
gratified her to feel that here at length she might tread firmly and hold her
own. The examination of the drawings proceeded, with the result that Cecily's
original misgiving was strongly confirmed. What would Ross Mallard say?
Mallard's own work was not of the impressionist school, and he might suffer
prejudice to direct him; but she had a conviction of how his remarks would sound
were this portfolio submitted to him. Genius - scarcely. And if not, then
assuredly the other thing, and that in flagrant degree.
    Most happily, the dinner-bell came with its peremptory interruption.
    »I must see them again to-morrow,« said Cecily, in her pleasantest voice.
    At table, the ladies were in a majority. Mr. Bradshaw