The principle given above has been followed in such works as “Amaryllis,” “The Bride of Bethlehem,” and “Sorrow.”

There is but one portrait reproduced in this book, and that a copy of a very early one which was rescued from destruction by the artist’s mother. He was going to rub it out that he might use the ground for something else, and he objected to the rescue because it would cost him 3s. 6d.; but she stood firm. The portrait painted of himself in later life, palette in hand, was executed for the gallery of great artists by themselves at the Uffizi. The haunting “Head of Rossetti,” with fixed, intent eyes, was taken from a pastel sketch, made for Woolner when he was out in Melbourne. He had appealed to his Pre-Raphaelite Brothers to give him some tangible proof of their kinship which would help him to find clients, because their names were better known than his, and often in the paper. They held a meeting, therefore, in Millais’ studio, worked the whole day, and sent him out their portraits by each other. Rossetti’s absorbed gaze is explained by the fact that he was drawing Hunt at the moment. “Bianca” was painted in tempera from a beautiful young American.

One portrait called “The Birthday”—the picture of a lady—could not but be wronged by any description whatever.

Day after day last autumn, two little rooms in Leicester Square were crowded with eager thousands, thronging to gaze upon the pictures that, when they first appeared, no one would buy. Outside, the fog often held sway. Within, light shone from every wall, the light of dawn from “May Morning”; the glowing light of noonday from “The Strayed Sheep”; moonlight from “The Ship”; soft starlight from “The Triumph”; the light upon the sea, the downs, the mountains, the faces of men and women in the open field; the light of strange fire; the light of human eyes inspired with hope and purpose; the radiant light of spiritual force.