’And so she has actually begun to-day.  She makes a pretence of keeping her novel and a little dictionary and grammar in a bag, and hides them when any one appears.  But Paul has already begun to tease her about her new and mysterious occupation, and I foresee that he will presently spend the greater part of his mornings in teaching her.  I never saw anybody attract him so much; she is absolutely different from anything he has seen before; and, as he says, the mixture of ignorance and genius in her—­yes, genius; don’t be startled!—­is most stimulating to the imagination.’

* * * * *

’August 22.

’During the last few days I have not been seeing so much of Miss Bretherton as before.  She has been devoting herself to her family, and Paul and I have been doing our pictures.  We cannot persuade her to take any very large dose of galleries; it seems to me that her thoughts are set on one subject—­and one subject only—­and while she is in this first stage of intensity, it is not likely that anything else will have a chance.

’It is amusing to study the dissatisfaction of the uncle and aunt with the turn things have taken since they left London.  Mr. Worrall has been evidently accustomed to direct his niece’s life from top to bottom—­to choose her plays for her, helped by Mr. Robinson; to advise her as to her fellow-actors, and her behaviour in society; and all, of course, with a shrewd eye to the family profit, and as little regard as need be to any fantastical conception of art.

’Now, however, Isabel has asserted herself in several unexpected ways.  She has refused altogether to open her autumn season with the play which had been nearly decided on before they left London—­a flimsy spectacular performance quite unworthy of her.  As soon as possible she will make important changes in the troupe who are to be with her, and at the beginning of September she is coming to stay three weeks with us in Paris, and, in all probability (though the world is to know nothing of it), Perrault of the Conservatoire, who is a great friend of ours, will give her a good deal of positive teaching.  This last arrangement is particularly exasperating to Mr. Worrall.  He regards it as sure to be known, a ridiculous confession of weakness on Isabel’s part, and so on.  However, in spite of his wrath and the aunt’s sullen or tearful disapproval, she has stood firm, and matters are so arranged.’

* * * * *

’Saturday night, August 25.

’This evening we persuaded her at last to give us some scenes of Juliet.  How I wish you could have been here!  It was one of those experiences which remain with one as a sort of perpetual witness to the poetry which life holds in it, and may yield up to one at any moment.  It was in our little garden; the moon was high above the houses opposite, and the narrow canal running past our side railing