Hymn To My Soul

~ CHAPTER 2 ~

    "Oh, what beautiful paintings these are!" Lydia exclaimed as she examined one of the many paintings that Rose had recently bought. "Who is the artist again?"

"Something Picasso? I don't fully remember, but when I saw them in the gallery, I just fell in love with the art." Rose smiled as she helped organize the paintings throughout her suite with her maid.

"Ugh, not those finger paintings again. Those were a waste of money." Grumbled Cal as he sipped a glass of brandy appearing in the doorframe of the promenade. He leaned with a sly look across his face, which disgusted and angered both women. Thankfully Silas wasn't present and she could freely use her tongue with the wit of her friend.

"The difference between Cal's taste in art and mine is that I have some," Rose remarked smartly, which Lydia snickered to watching in amusement at Cal's scrunched-up nose. "They're quite fascinating, don't you think? It's like being inside a dream or something. There's truth but no logic. What do you think, Lydia?" She asked, handing her a painting of a ballerina dressed in a daisy costume.

"I think they're marvelous. Look at the beautiful strokes on this one." She said, pointing to the ballerina. "Some aren't my style, but I do think he has something for him. Abstract, I think they call the art style. Very interesting, but I'm definitely one for realism or landscapes. Have you ever heard of Thomas Cole? He did many paintings in the early part of the last century, but the works were very beautiful. He really focused on the nature and perspective parts of his pieces. I have about one or two originals but several copies at home." Lydia remarked. Rose smiled and nodded. Lydia stood and helped her organize the paintings throughout the rooms in the suite, standing them up against the walls. They moved into the bedroom and set the ballerina panting against the vanity. "Why did you decide to take them out and set them up like this?"

Rose shrugged. "I just wanted to see them. They give me a sense of comfort and security. Like your books and writing. I can just stare at them for hours, transporting myself into their world. Becoming the painting and living in the world of imagination. Isn't that what you say about your writing?" She explained.

Lydia smiled and nodded. "Yes. I put my conscience into the story and that's how my novels are produced."

"Not to mention your spectacular literacy and style. You are a brilliant writer, Lydia." Rose smiled. Lydia thanked her as Rose's maid, Trudy, came into the room, placing another painting in the corner of the room. She was marveling at the size of the rooms and the beauty and freshness of the ship.

"Just think about it, Miss. I'll be the first to sleep within the sheets! We're the first to stay in all of these rooms. That's pretty spectacular, Ma'am." She expressed with a slight cockney accent as she helped unbutton the cuffs to Rose's dress.

"I know!" Lydia exclaimed, beaming at the maid. "It's quite a magnificent ship. Didn't you see that grand staircase? It was so beautiful! The marble floors, the intricate carvings within the wood against the walls and in the doors. The beautiful sculpture. And—oh! The clock within the wall. It was all so beautiful. Do you know who designed the ship? I'd love to give him a good shake of the hand and congratulate him on such a magnificent job. What a beautiful ship!" Lydia squealed overjoyed, wandering about the room allowing her delicate hand to graze each divot in the wooden walls. Trudy gathered a newspaper from the nightstand and handed it to her.

"I believe his name is Thomas Andrews, Miss. He was quoted here in the papers." She explained, pointing to it. Rose joined Lydia in reading the front page article on the commemoration and introduction of the RMS Titanic. There sat a picture of the ship sailing off from Belfast toward Southampton. Smoke pumped from the smoke stacks as the black and white photo captured the light and dark tones of the ship perfectly.