I linger over these final particulars with a strange
unwillingness to separate myself from them, and give my mind to
other thoughts. Perhaps the persons and events that have occupied
my attention for so many nights past have some peculiar interest
for me that I cannot analyze. Perhaps the labor and time which
this story has cost me have especially endeared it to my
sympathies, now that I have succeeded in completing it. However
that may be, I have need of some resolution to part at last with
Sister Rose, and return, in the interests of my next and Fourth
Story, to English ground.
I have experienced so much difficulty, let me add, in deciding on
the choice of a new narrative out of my collection, that my wife
has lost all patience, and has undertaken, on her own
responsibility, to relieve me of my unreasonable perplexities. By
her advice--given, as usual, without a moment's hesitation--I
cannot do better than tell the story of
THE LADY OF GLENWITH GRANGE.
PROLOGUE TO THE FOURTH STORY.
My practice in the art of portrait-painting, if it has done
nothing else, has at least fitted me to turn my talents (such as
they are) to a great variety of uses. I have not only taken the
likenesses of men, women, and children, but have also extended
the range of my brush, under stress of circumstances, to horses,
dogs, houses, and in one case even to a bull--the terror and
glory of his parish, and the most truculent sitter I ever had.
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