American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
The captain of the Cynosure had now finished his instructions.
"And, Drowne," said he, impressively, "you must lay aside all other
business and set about this forthwith. And as to the price, only do the
job in first-rate style, and you shall settle that point yourself."
"Very well, Captain," answered the carver, who looked grave and somewhat
perplexed, yet had a sort of smile upon his visage; "depend upon it,
I'll do my utmost to satisfy you."
From that moment the men of taste about Long Wharf and the Town Dock who
were wont to show their love for the arts by frequent visits to Drowne's
workshop, and admiration of his wooden images, began to be sensible of a
mystery in the carver's conduct. Often he was absent in the daytime.
Sometimes, as might be judged by gleams of light from the shop-windows,
he was at work until a late hour of the evening; although neither knock
nor voice, on such occasions, could gain admittance for a visitor, or
elicit any word of response. Nothing remarkable, however, was observed
in the shop at those hours when it was thrown open. 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 himself 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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