A fine piece of timber, indeed, which Drowne was known to have reserved for
some work of especial dignity, was seen to be gradually assuming shape. What
shape it was destined ultimately to take, was a problem to his friends, and
a point on which the carver preserved a rigid silence. But day after day,
though Drowne was seldom noticed in the act of working upon it, this rude
form began to be developed, until it became evident to all observers, that
a female figure was growing into mimic life. At each new visit they beheld
a larger pile of wooden chips, and a nearer approximation to something beautiful.
It seemed as if the hamadryad of the oak had sheltered herself from the unimaginative
world within the heart of her native tree, and that it was only necessary
to remove the strange shapelessness that had incrusted her, and reveal the
grace and loveliness of a divinity. Imperfect as the design, the attitude,
the costume, and especially the face of the image, still remained, there was
already an effect that drew the eye from the wooden cleverness of Drowne's
earlier productions, and fixed it upon the tantalizing mystery of this new
project.
