Stephen was not professedly a free-hand draughtsman,but he drew the human figure with correctness and skill.In its numerous repetitions on the sides and edges of the leaves,Knight began to notice a peculiarity.All the feminine saints had one type of feature.There were large nimbi and small nimbi about their drooping heads,but the face was always the same.That profile--how well Knight knew that profile!
Had there been but one specimen of the familiar countenance,he might have passed over the resemblance as accidental;but a repetition meant more.Knight thought anew of Smiths hasty words earlier in the day,and looked at the sketches again and again.
On the young mans entry,Knight said with palpable agitation--
Stephen,who are those intended for?
Stephen looked over the book with utter unconcern,Saints and angels,done in my leisure moments.They were intended as designs for the stained glass of an English church.
But whom do you idealize by that type of woman you always adopt for the Virgin?
Nobody.
And then a thought raced along Stephens mind and he looked up at his friend.
The truth is,Stephens introduction of Elfrides lineaments had been so unconscious that he had not at first understood his companions drift.The hand,like the tongue,easily acquires the trick of repetition by rote,without calling in the mind to assist at all;and this had been the case here.Young men who cannot write verses about their Loves generally take to portraying them,and in the early days of his attachment Smith had never been weary of outlining Elfride.The lay-figure of Stephens sketches now initiated an adjustment of many things.Knight had recognized her.The opportunity of comparing notes had come unsought.
Elfride Swancourt,to whom I was engaged,he said quietly.
Stephen!
I know what you mean by speaking like that.
Was it Elfride?YOU the man,Stephen?
Yes;and you are thinking why did I conceal the fact from you that time at Endelstow,are you not?
Yes,and more--more.