when they docked in Baltimore. When she pushed her foot down into the shoe, sharp pain shot upward. Her right foot had swollen so much it was impossible to put on her shoe. She hobbled about, aghast at the thickness of her ankle.
"Gout," Charles announced. He ordered her to drink quantities of weak tea and to massage her foot with a towel dipped in a foul-smelling solution. 'You ate greedily," Charles said. "You had better read my pamphlet on preserving health. You must learn restraint and moderation. If you don't, your gout will flare up again and again. Look at how Raphaelle suffers."
Sarah bit her lip, and rushed to her cousin's defense. "Raphaelle told me once he tried very hard to practice moderation, but couldn't prevent himself from drinking liquor, even when he knew it would end badly."
Charles looked nakedly into Sarah's eyes. "Why can't he prevent himself from it? He had so much promise, such a tender boy, always trying to please me. But in this, he doesn't try hard enough." His jaw clenched. "You had better discipline yourself, young lady." His voice was as harsh as she had ever heard it.
"Thank you, Uncle. I surely will. One thing I don't care much for is gout." She wiggled her toes and Charles laughed.
The steamship arrived at the harbor in Baltimore in the dark hours of morning. Charles thought it best to stay on board until the sun rose. “It won't be long," Anna said. And for once Sarah had no desire to argue. The swelling in her foot was going down, but it was still so painful she would not have been able to keep up with the rest of them.
The talk was all of Rembrandt now and of his museum. Uncle Charles could not hide his eagerness to see it. "I begged him not to build the museum in Baltimore," Charles said. "But if my wishes were ignored, I cannot complain. Rembrandt has spared nothing to make it the city's pride. Maybe he was right. How could something as worthy as a museum hurt Angelica?"
Hannah's face filled with concern when Charles mentioned Angelica’s name. Hannah was a quiet woman, but alert to the struggles going on in her husband's mind.
“Baltimore is a big enough place for both Peales and Robinsons," Anna said."Not necessarily," Charles said. "Lord knows I've tried every kindness I can think of, but Alexander's still set against us. I'm afraid Rembrandt's presence in Baltimore can only harden him."
"Be that as it may," Hannah said. "You will enjoy seeing Angelica and her children. A good portrait of them will give happiness for a long time after." Hannah's simple Quaker goodness seemed to calm Charles.
At daybreak Charles hired a barrow man to carry their baggage to Rembrandt's house. "You will be best waiting right here. After I've awakened the family, I'll come back with Rembrandt and his carriage."
Shortly after nine o'clock Charles returned with Rembrandt. Sarah was struck with how much Rembrandt resembled his father—in the way they walked, the way they held their heads. Rembrandt, though younger, moved slowly and exuded an almost feminine air of gentility. After hearty embraces, they all climbed into the carriage and headed to Rembrandt's museum.
The carriage drew to a halt on Holliday Street. Sarah gazed at the tall brick museum building with many windows facing the street, and four stately pillars flanking the front door. A flag hung from a long pole over the entrance.
"To think," Anna said, "this is the only building in America designed to be a museum. It has dignity, doesn't it?"
"Yes." Charles agreed. "The State House has served well as a muse um in Philadelphia, but this is better. I only hope the high cost can be offset with profit."
"Let's hurry in?" Sarah said. "I can't wait to see inside."
"Impatient Sarah," Charles said, shaking his head. "Come, get down, but before we go in I do want to look at the new gas streetlamp."
Sarah sighed. She didn't mean to be impatient, but the streetlamp could be seen any time, preferably when it was lighting the street. She understood, though, how Uncle Charles would be interested in the scientific aspect of a streetlamp that used gas. She held back her urge to dash up the stairs and poke around inside to see where Rembrandt had put things. He had written about the studio on the third floor. She was most anxious to see that, for surely that was where she would be studying.
Sarah and Anna's footsteps made a muffled hollow sound on the smooth floor as they followed Charles, Rembrandt and Hannah. Rembrandt talked about the gas works. "Rubens's experiments in Philadelphia have been criticized as dangerous," Charles said. Rembrandt shrugged. He was so excited about the possibilities of illuminating with gas that he was ready to start a gas company in Baltimore. It sounded impractical to Sarah, but what did she know?
Sarah and Anna lagged behind as they surveyed the first large room. Rembrandt showed them the six-octave piano in the lecture hall.
"This is splendid," Charles said; his voice full of pride in Rembrandt's accomplishments.
"I wonder why Uncle Charles is so different with Raphaelle," Sarah whispered.
"You know exactly why," Anna reproached. "Uncle Charles has seen what Raphaelle's drinking has made of his life."
"It seems to me," Sarah said, "that most men drink too much. And at least Raphaelle laughs and makes jokes."
Anna frowned. "It's not something we should discuss. Uncle Charles feels responsible for everyone. That's why he brought us along. He does what he can for Raphaelle, too."
"I just wish Raphaelle had a museum of his own or something nice."
Anna swung sharply around to face Sarah with a warning glare. "Now, don't talk like that, Sarah. Think about learning all you can from Rembrandt. If you don't work hard, Uncle will be sorry he brought you. You'll be invited to dozens of places, but you're here to learn something. You paint better than I did at your age. If you apply yourself, you will be able to carry on father's work."
Anna's eyes beseeched Sarah to understand. It was as though this whole sojourn was more serious than Sarah had thought. "Do you think Papa's eyes are worsening so much...?"
Anna nodded. "And if I am the only one prepared to supply any income from painting, we will feel the pinch badly."
"Don't worry, Anna. I'll work hard. You can depend on me." It was a strange thought for Sarah. She had never expected that anyone would ever depend on her. She was the youngest, the one who was doted on, and spoiled. But now she would have to share some of the responsibilities. She held her chin up. Yes, you can depend on me."
"Come along, you two," Rembrandt said. "I must show you the skylight gallery and the third-floor studio room."
Sarah sprang to attention, hurrying and pulling Anna along. "The studio sounds like a palace. Papa says it's more than twice as big as his workshop and twice as high. Are you going to paint gigantic pictures like they do in Paris?"
"Could be," Rembrandt said laughing. "And I hope to start an art school some day in the future." He paused at an arched doorway. "But first, here we are in the main gallery."
Sarah stood still. Light radiated into the room, spreading natural warmth but diffusing the brightness so there was no glare. On the white walls hung rows of portraits of Revolutionary War heroes, along with Rembrandt's Roman Daughter, Napoleon and his copy of Benjamin West's Death of Virginia. Sarah was intrigued most of all by Rembrandt's portrait of Jefferson. The face was beautiful in a way that imputed greatness, the eyes shone with sincerity and the fur collar around the neck was so perfect, Sarah could almost feel the soft hair under her fingertips. There was so much Rembrandt could teach—if only she were clever enough to learn.
Rembrandt pointed to the new lamps suspended from the cupola. "This is the first time paintings have ever been exhibited by artificial light in such a way. Wait till you see it in the evening. We have illuminations on Tuesday and Thursday nights."
Charles's eyes flickered with pride as he looked around. Going upstairs to the studio room, he put his arm around Sarah and spoke to Rembrandt. "Our little Sally has shown a good deal of promise. If she can learn some of the techniques you brought back from Europe, she will become a mainstay in James's studio."
Rembrandt's