Biblis painting

Biblis painting
Boulevard des Capucines
Charity painting
Christ In The Storm On The Sea Of Galilee
cheek. I gazed round for a means of diverting her thoughts. On one side of the road rose a high, rough bank, where hazels and stunted oaks, with their roots half exposed, held uncertain tenure: the soil was too loose for the latter; and strong winds had blown some nearly horizontal. In summer, Miss Catherine delighted to climb along these trunks, and sit in the branches, swinging twenty feet above the ground; and I, pleased with her agility and her light, childish heart, still considered it proper to scold every time I caught her at such an elevation, but so that she knew there was no necessity for descending. From dinner to tea she would lie in her breeze-rocked cradle, doing nothing except singing old songs--my nursery lore--to herself, or watching the birds, joint tenants, feed and entice their young ones to fly: or nestling with closed lids, half thinking, half dreaming, happier than words can express.
`Look, miss!' I exclaimed, pointing to a nook under the roots of one twisted tree. `Winter is not here yet. There's a little flower up yonder, the last bud from the multitude of bluebells that clouded those turf steps in July with a lilac mist. Will you clamber up, and pluck it to show to papa?'
Cathy stared a long time at the lonely blossom trembling in its earthy shelter, and replied, at length:
`No, I'll not touch it: but it looks melancholy, does it not, Ellen?'
`Yes,' I observed, `about as starved and sackless as you: your cheeks are bloodless; let us take hold of hands and run. You're so low, I dare say I shall keep up with you.
`No,' she repeated, and continued sauntering on, pausing, at intervals, to muse over a bit of moss, or a tuft of blanched grass, or a fungus spreading its bright orange among the heaps of brown foliage; and, ever and anon, her hand was lifted to her averted face.
`Catherine, why are you crying, love?' I asked, approaching and putting my arm over her shoulder. `You mustn't cry because papa has a cold; be thankful it is nothing worse.
She now put no further restraint on her tears; her breath was stifled by sobs.