silence, he talked with the rapidity and force of a turbid stream on the
imaginations and the memories embodied in his work. And on one occasion,
when the painter was busy with the head of St. Ursula, Laura, who was
talking to Helbeck a few yards away, turned suddenly and found those dark
strange eyes, that as a rule evaded her, fixed steadily and intently upon
her. Next day she fancied with a start of dislike that in the lines of
St. Ursula's brow, and in the arrangement of the hair, there was a
certain resemblance to herself. But Helbeck did not notice it, and
nothing was said.

At meals, too, conversation turned now more on art than on missions.
Pictures seen by the two friends years before; Helbeck's fading
recollections of Florence and Rome; modern Catholic art as it was being
developed in the Jesuit churches of the Continent: of these things
Williams would talk, and talk eagerly. Sometimes Augustina would timidly
introduce some subject of greater practical interest to the commonplace
English Catholic. Mr. Williams would let it drop; and then Mrs. Fountain
would sit silent and ill at ease, her head and hands twitching in a
helpless bewildered way.

But in a moment came a change. After a certain Thursday when he was at
work all day, the young man painted no more. Beyond St. Ursula, St.
Eulalia of Saragossa, Virgin and Martyr, had been sketched in, with a
strange force of line and some suggestions both of colour and symbolism
that held Laura fascinated. But the sketch remained ghostlike on the
wall. The high stool was removed; the blouse put away.

Thenceforward Mr. Williams--to Laura's secret anger--spent hours in
Helbeck's study reading. His avoidance of her society and Mrs. Fountain's
was more marked than ever. His face, which in the first days at