The candles were lit but, even in the gloom, I knew that something was different. She laid aside the book and offered me tea. ‘The Judge will be down directly. He is with Mrs Wintour.’ I took the cup from her. The room seemed unexpectedly airier and clearer than usual. I looked about me and saw what had changed. ‘That painting’s gone,’ I said. Mrs Arabella had been watching me. ‘I wondered how long it would take you.’ There was a hint of amusement in her voice. ‘I could not endure to see it there any longer. Josiah and the porter took it away this afternoon.’ The great painting of Mount George had dominated the room from its proud position over the fireplace. A solitary candle on the mantelpiece revealed its ghostly traces, a pale oblong outlined in the smoky stains on the wallpaper. ‘Will you have it hung somewhere else?’ I asked. ‘Or will you store it?’ ‘I told Josiah to cut it up and burn it on the kitchen fire, sir. And the frame. At least we shall have some use from it then.’ ‘You did not care for the house, I think?
What do You think about The Scent Of Death (2013)?
