” She passed out without reply. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. You might get faint, but you can fight it. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. "I believe he's gone," he said, returning to Jonathan. Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely.
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