Page 284 - sons-and-lovers

She laughed.
‘I should have the trouble of dragging you down again,’
she said.
But she was full of joy, nevertheless. William had brought
her his sporting trophies. She kept them still, and she did
not forgive his death. Arthur was handsome—at least, a
good specimen—and warm and generous, and probably
would do well in the end. But Paul was going to distinguish
himself. She had a great belief in him, the more because he
was unaware of his own powers. There was so much to come
out of him. Life for her was rich with promise. She was to
see herself fulfilled. Not for nothing had been her struggle.
Several times during the exhibition Mrs. Morel went to
the Castle unknown to Paul. She wandered down the long
room looking at the other exhibits. Yes, they were good. But
they had not in them a certain something which she de-
manded for her satisfaction. Some made her jealous, they
were so good. She looked at them a long time trying to find
fault with them. Then suddenly she had a shock that made
her heart beat. There hung Paul’s picture! She knew it as if it
were printed on her heart.
‘Name—Paul Morel—First Prize.’
It looked so strange, there in public, on the walls of the
Castle gallery, where in her lifetime she had seen so many
pictures. And she glanced round to see if anyone had no-
ticed her again in front of the same sketch.
But she felt a proud woman. When she met well-dressed
ladies going home to the Park, she thought to herself:
‘Yes, you look very well—but I wonder if YOUR son has