"Now I understand. You want me to
paint Wharton as a scriptural character looking across to Miss Dudley's
Cecilia."
"You are very slow!" said Catherine. "I think you might have seen it
without making me tell you."
To a low-church evangelical parson this idea might have seemed
inexpressibly shocking, but there was something in it which, after a
moment's reflection, rather pleased Hazard. It was the sort of thing
which the Florentines did, and there was hardly an early church in Italy
about whose walls did not cling the colors of some such old union of art
and friendship in the service of religion. Catherine's figure was
already there. Why not place Wharton's by its side and honor the artist
who had devoted so large a share of his life to the service of the
church, with, it must be confessed, a very moderate share of worldly
profit. The longer Hazard thought of it, the less he saw to oppose. His
tastes were flattered by the idea of doing something with his own hand
that should add to the character and meaning of the building. His
imagination was so pleased with the notion that at last he gave his
consent:--"Very well, Miss Brooke! I will draw a figure for this next
vacant space, and carry it as far as I know how. If Wharton objects he
can efface it. But Miss Dudley will have to finish it for me, for I
can't paint, and Wharton would certainly stop me if I tried."
Although this pretty bargain which seemed so fair, really threw on
Esther the whole burden of writing sonnets and painting portraits for
the amusement of Catherine and Mr.
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