"
"Oh, she hated it so--she hated it so! She was so jealous.
But here's the portrait--you may have that," Miss Tita announced,
taking the little picture, wrapped up in the same manner
in which her aunt had wrapped it, out of her pocket.
"I may have it--do you mean you give it to me?"
I questioned, staring, as it passed into my hand.
"Oh, yes."
"But it's worth money--a large sum."
"Well!" said Miss Tita, still with her strange look.
I did not know what to make of it, for it could scarcely mean that she wanted
to bargain like her aunt. She spoke as if she wished to make me a present.
"I can't take it from you as a gift," I said, "and yet I can't afford
to pay you for it according to the ideas Miss Bordereau had of its value.
She rated it at a thousand pounds."
"Couldn't we sell it?" asked Miss Tita.
"God forbid! I prefer the picture to the money."
"Well then keep it."
"You are very generous."
"So are you."
"I don't know why you should think so," I replied; and this
was a truthful speech, for the singular creature appeared
to have some very fine reference in her mind, which I did
not in the least seize.
"Well, you have made a great difference for me," said Miss Tita.
I looked at Jeffrey Aspern's face in the little picture,
partly in order not to look at that of my interlocutress,
which had begun to trouble me, even to frighten me a little--
it was so self-conscious, so unnatural. I made no answer to this
last declaration; I only privately consulted Jeffrey Aspern's
delightful eyes with my own (they were so young and brilliant,
and yet so wise, so full of vision); I asked him what on earth
was the matter with Miss Tita.
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