'It is in the next room,' said he, 'but the predella is here on the
next easel. I have removed it from underneath the picture to work
upon.'
'The head of Ruth has been taken out,' said my mother, turning to me:
'but isn't it like an old master? You ought to see the marvellous
Pre-Raphaelite pictures at Mr. Graham's and Mr. Leyland's, Henry.'
'Pre-Raphaelites?' said Wilderspin, 'the Master rhymes, madam, and
Burne-Jones actually _reads_ the rhymes! However, they are on the
right track in art, though neither has the slightest intercourse with
the spirit world, not the slightest.'
'My exploits as a painter have not been noticeable as yet,' I said;
'but an amateur may know what a barley-field is. That is one before
us. He may know what a man in love is; Boaz there is in love.'
'I wish we could see the woman's face,' said Sleaford. 'A woman, you
know, without a face--'
'Come and see the predella of "Faith and Love,"' said Wilderspin, and
he moved towards an easel where rested the predella, a long narrow
picture without a frame. My mother followed him, leaving me standing
before the picture of 'Ruth and Boaz.' Although the head of Ruth had
been painted out, the picture seemed to throb with life. Boaz had
just discovered the Moabitish maiden in the gleaming barley-field, as
she had risen from stooping to glean the corn. Two ears of barley
were in one hand. In the face of Boaz was an expression of surprise,
and his eyes were alight with admiration. The picture was finished
with the exception of the face of Ruth, which was but newly sketched
in. Wilderspin had contrived to make her attitude and even the very
barley-ears in her hand (one of which was dangling between her
slender fingers in the act of falling) express innocent perturbation
and girlish modesty.