Three generations

MY MOTHER'S PICTURE 93
There is a picture of her painted at this time, as a
gift from the painter to my father, by young Robert
Scott Lauder, afterwards a well-known Scotch R.A.,
and the founder of a school in Scotch art. She is not
painted in her house-dress of merino or printed calico,
with the universal black silk apron of the housewife
of the time, any sombreness in the dress relieved by
the broad white collar extending to the shoulders, and
the cap with its cheerful blue or pink ribbons : she is
in the demi-dress in which she went to these friendly
easy tea and supper parties. There she sits, with her
kind, placid face, in a comely, sedate-looking black silk
gown, which might have been the dress of a Puritan
or a Quaker. The bodice is cut square over a necker-
chief fastened by a familiar cornelian brooch. Fitting
closely over her " comb-curls " is a cap of the finest
netting, as light as filmy lace. In the background
there is a glimpse of a fawn silk shawl with a dim,
rich border. The ring with a bit of coral on her hand
is as familiar as the brooch. The single touch which
seems to detract from the dainty sobriety of the whole
is a broad gilt band round the wrist, probably a fashion
in bracelets of that day.
But though my mother was great in housewifery,
her bright, inquiring mind did not lie fallow. She
took a lively interest in the topics of the day, which
she heard often discussed by clever, original men of
my father's set, and she made time to master the news-
papers. She used to recall the events they recorded
long years afterwards. She told me one instance of
Byron's coldness to his wife from the very beginning
of their married days, which I found confirmed from
an entirely different quarter and after a long interval.
She had been much touched by that strange appeal