RODERICK HUDSON
her which place her constancy beyond suspicion." And he pointed out on the wall, near by, two small landscapes by the modest water-colourist.
The sculptor examined them with deference, and Singleton himself began to laugh nervously; he was all active with hope that the great Gloriani would be pleased. "Yes, these are fresh too," Gloriani said; "extraordinarily fresh. How old are you?"
"Twenty-six, sir," said Singleton.
"For twenty-six they 're famously fresh. They must have taken you a long time; you work slowly."
"Yes, unfortunately I work very slowly. One of them took me six weeks, the other two months."
"Upon my word the Muse pays you long visits." And Gloriani turned and looked from head to foot at so unlikely an object of her favours. Singleton smiled and began to wipe his forehead very hard. "Oh, you," said the sculptor—"you 'll keep it up!"
A week after his dinner Rowland went into Roderick's studio and found him sitting before an unfinished piece of work with his head in his hands. He might have fancied that the fatal hour foretold by Gloriani had already of a sudden struck. Roderick rose with sombre decision, flinging down his tools. "It 's no use," he said; "I give it up!"
"What's the matter?"
"I 've struck a shallow! I was sailing, as you may have seen, before as stiff a breeze as ever was. But for the last day or two my keel has taken to grinding the bottom."
"You 've come upon a difficult bit?" Rowland
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