'Then he must have his allowance as you suggest。 The thing is quite clear。'
In some ways Brideshead was an easy man to deal with。 He had a kind of mad certainty about everything which made his decisions swift and easy。
'Would you like to paint this house？' he asked suddenly。 'A picture of the front； another of the back on the park； another of the staircase； another of the big drawing…room？ Four small oils； that is what my father wants done for a record； to keep at Brideshead。 I don't know any painters。 Julia said you specialized in architecture。'
'Yes；' I said。 'I should like to very much。'
'You know it's being pulled down？ My father's selling it。 They are going to put up a block of flats here。 They're keeping the name … we can't stop them apparently。'
'What a sad thing。'
'Well； I'm sorry of course。 But you think it good architecturally？'
'One of the most beautiful houses I know。'
'Can't see it。 I've always thought it rather ugly。 Perhaps your pictures will make me see it differently。'
This was my first mission； I had to work against time； for the contractors were only waiting for the final signature to start their work of destruction。 In spite； or perhaps； because； of that for it is my vice to spend too long on a canvas； never content to leave well alone … those four paintings are particular favourites of mine； and it was their success； both with myself and others； that confirmed me in what has since been my career。
I began in the long drawing…room； for they were anxious to shift the furniture； which had stood there since it was built。 It was a long； elaborate； symmetrical Adam room； with two bays of windows opening into Green Park。 The light； streaming in from the west on the afternoon when I began to paint there； was fresh green from the young trees outside。
I had the perspective set out in pencil and the detail carefully placed。 I held back from painting； like a diver on the water's edge； once in I found myself buoyed and exhilarated。 I was normally a slow and deliberate painter； that afternoon and all next day； and the day after； I worked fast。 I could do nothing wrong。 At the end of each passage I paused； tense； afraid to start the next； fearing； like a gambler； that luck must turn and the pile be lost。 Bit by bit； minute by minute； the thing came into being。 There were no difficulties； the intricate multiplicity of light and colour became a whole； the right colour was where I wanted it； on the palette； each brush stroke； as soon as it was plete； seemed to have been there always。
Presently on the last afternoon I heard a voice behind me say： 'May I stay here and watch？'
I turned and found Cordelia。
'Yes；' I said； 'if you don't talk；' and I worked on； oblivious of her； until the failing sun made me put up my brushes。
'It must be lovely to be able to do that。'
I had forgotten she was there。
'It is。'
I could not even now leave my picture； although the sun was down and the room fading to monochrome。 I took it from the easel and held it up to the windows； put it back and lightened a shadow。 Then； suddenly weary in head and eyes and back and arm； I gave it up for the evening and turned to Cordelia。
She was now fifteen and had grown tall； nearly to her full height； in the last eighteen months。 She had not the promise of Julia's full quattrocento loveliness； there was a touch of Brideshead already in her length of nose and high cheekbone； she was in black； mourning for her mother。
'I'm tired；' I said。
'I bet you are。 Is it finished？'
'Practically。 I must go over it again tomorrow。'
'D'you know it's long past dinner time？ There's no one here to cook anything now。 I only came up today； and didn't realize how far the decay had gone。 You wouldn't like to take me out to dinner； would； you？'
We left by the garden door； into the park； and walked in the twilight to the Ritz Grill。
'You've seen Sebastian？ He won't e home； even now？'
I did not realize till then that she had understood so much。 I said so
'Well； I love him more than anyone；' she said。 'It's sad about Marchers； isn't it？ Do you know they're going to build a block of flats； and that Rex wanted to take I what he called a 〃penthouse〃 at the top。 Isn't it like him？ Poor Julia。 That was too much for her。 He couldn't understand at all； he thought she would like to keep up with her old home。 Things have all e to an end very quickly； haven't they？ Apparently papa has been terribly in debt for a long time。 Selling Marchers has put him straight again and saved I don't know how much a year in rates。 But it seems a shame to pull it down。 Julia says she'd sooner that than to have someone else live there。'
'What's going to happen to you？'
'What； indeed？ There are all kinds of suggestions。 Aunt Fanny Rossmon wants me to live with her。 Then Rex and Julia talk of taking over half Brideshead and living there。 Papa won't e back。 We thought he might； but no。
'They've closed the chapel at Brideshead； Bridey and the Bishop； mummy's Requiem was the last mass said there。 After she was buried the priest came in … I was there alone。 I don't think he saw me … and took out the altar stone and put it in his bag； then he burned the wads of wool with the holy oil on them and threw the ash outside； he emptied the holy…water stoop and blew out the lamp in the sanctuary； and left the tabernacle open； and empty； as though from now on it was always to be Good Friday。 I suppose none of this makes any sense to you； Charles； poor agnostic。 I stayed there till he was gone； and then； suddenly； there wasn't any chapel there any more； just an oddly decorated room。 I can't tell you what it felt like。 You've。never been to Tenebrae； I suppose？'
'Never。'
'Well； if you had you'd know what the Jews felt about their temple。 Quomodo sedet sola civitas。。。it's a beautiful chant。 You ought to go once； just to hear it。'
'Still trying to convert me； Cordelia？'
'Oh； no。 That's all over； too。 D'you know what papa said when he became a Catholic？ Mummy told me once。 He said to her： 〃You have brought back my family to the faith of their ancestors。〃 Pompous； you know。 It takes people different ways。 Anyhow； the family haven't been very constant； have they？ There's him gone and Sebastian gone and Julia gone。 But God won't let them go for long； you know。 I wonder if you remember the story mummy read us the evening Sebastian first got drunk I mean the bad evening。 〃Father Brown〃 said something like 〃I caught him〃 （the thief） 〃with an unseen hook and an invisible line which is long enough to let him wander to the ends of the world and still to bring him back with a twitch upon the thread。〃'
We scarcely mentioned her mother。 All the time we talked； she ate voraciously。 Once she said：
'Did you see Sir Adrian Porson's poem in The Times？ It's funny： he knew her best of anyone … he loved her all his life； you know … and yet it doesn't seem to have anything to do with her at all。
'I got on best with her of any of us； but I don't believe I ever really loved her。 Not as she wanted or deserved。 It's odd I didn't； because I'm full of natural affections。'
'I never really knew your Mother；' I said。
'You didn't like her。 I sometimes think when people wanted to hate God they hated mummy。'
'What do you mean by that； Cordelia？'
'Well； you see； she was saintly but she wasn't a saint。 No one could really hate a saint； could they？ They can't really hate God either。 When they want to hate him and his saints； they have to find something like themselves and pretend it's God and hate that。 I suppose you think that's all bosh。'
'I heard almost the same thing once before … from someone very different。'
'Oh； I'm quite serious。 I've thought about it a lot。 It seems to explain poor mummy。'
Then this odd child tucked into her dinner with renewed relish。 'First time I've ever been taken out to dinner alone at a restaurant；' she said。
Later： 'When Julia heard they were selling Marchers she said： 〃Poor Cordelia。 She won't have her ing…out ball there after all。〃 It's a thing we used to talk about … like my being her bridesmaid。 That didn't e off either。 W