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The old man looked up； and something like a smile passed over his
joyless face when he saw Helen Stanley bending over him。
〃Ah；〃 he answered； 〃you must not hate Lucretius。 I have had more
pleasant hours with him than with any living person。〃
He rose and came forward to examine her copy of Andrea del Sarto's
portrait。
〃Yours is better than mine；〃 he said； critically； 〃in fact； mine is a
failure。 I think I shall only get a small price for mine； indeed； I
doubt whether I shall get sufficient to pay for my funeral。〃
〃You speak dismally；〃 she answered； smiling。
〃I missed you yesterday；〃 he continued； half dreamily。 〃I left my
work； and I wandered through the rooms； and I did not even read
Lucretius。 Something seemed to have gone from my life。 At first I
thought it must be my favourite Raphael； or the Murillo； but it was
neither the one nor the other； it was you。 That was strange； wasn't
it？ But you know we get accustomed to anything； and perhaps I should
have missed you less the second day； and by the end of a week I should
not have missed you at all。 Mercifully； we have in us the power of
forgetting。〃
〃I do not wish to plead for myself；〃 she said； 〃but I do not believe
that you or any one could really forget。 That which outsiders call
forgetfulness might be called by the better name of resignation。〃
〃I don't care about talking any more now；〃 he said； suddenly； and he
went to his easel and worked silently at his picture； and Helen
Stanley glanced at him； and thought she had never seen her old
companion look so forlorn and desolate as he did to…day。 He looked as
if no gentle hand had ever been placed on him in kindliness and
affection； and that seemed to her a terrible thing； for she was one of
those prehistorically minded persons who persist in believing that
affection is as needful to human life as rain to flower life。 When
first she came to work at the gallerysome twelve months agoshe had
noticed this old man； and had wished for his companionship； she was
herself lonely and sorrowful； and； although young； had to fight her
own battles； and had learned something of the difficulties of
fighting； and this had given her an experience beyond her years。 She
was not more than twenty…four years of age； but she looked rather
older； and； though she had beautiful eyes； full of meaning and
kindness； her features were decidedly plain as well as unattractive。
There were some in the gallery who said among themselves that； as Mr。
Lindall had waited so many years before talking to any one； he might
have chosen some one better worth the waiting for！ But they soon
became accustomed to seeing Helen Stanley and Mr。 Lindall together；
and they laughed less than before； and meanwhile the acquaintance
ripened into a sort of friendship； half sulky on his part and wholly
kind on her part。 He told her nothing about himself； and he asked
nothing about herself； for weeks he never even knew her name。
Sometimes he did not speak at all； and the two friends would work
silently side by side until it was time to go； and then he waited
until she was ready； and walked with her across Trafalgar Square；
where they parted and went their own ways。
But occasionally； when she least expected it； he would speak with
glowing enthusiasm on art； then his eyes seemed to become bright； and
his bent figure more erect； and his whole bearing proud and dignified。
There were times； too； when he would speak on other subjects： on the
morality of free thoughton Bruno； of blessed memory； on him； and
scores of others too。 He would speak of the different schools of
philosophy； he would laugh at himself； and at all who； having given
time and thought to the study of life's complicated problems； had not
reached one step further than the Old…World thinkers。 Perhaps he would
quote one of his favourite philosophers； and then suddenly relapse
into silence； returning to his wonted abstraction and to his
indifference to his surroundings。 Helen Stanley had learned to
understand his ways and to appreciate his mind； and； without intruding
on him in any manner； had put herself gently into his life as his
quiet champion and his friend。 No one in her presence dared speak
slightingly of the old man； or to make fun of his tumble…down
appearance； or of his worn…out silk hat with a crack in the side； or
of his rag of a black tie； which； together with his overcoat； had
〃seen better days。〃 Once she brought her needle and thread； and darned
the torn sleeve during her lunch…time； and； though he never knew it；
it was a satisfaction to her to have helped him。
To…day she noticed that he was painting badly； and that he seemed to
take no interest in his work； but she went on busily with her own
picture； and was so engrossed in it that she did not at first observe
that he had packed up his brushes and was preparing to go home。
〃Three more strokes；〃 he said； quietly； 〃and you will have finished
your picture。 I shall never finish mine； perhaps you will be good
enough to set it right for me。 I am not coming here again。 I don't
seem to have caught the true expression； what do you think？ But I am
not going to let it worry me； for I am sure you will promise to do
your best for me。 See； I will hand over these colours and these
brushes to you； and no doubt you will accept the palette as well。 I
have no further use for it。〃
Helen Stanley took the palette which he held out toward her； and
looked at him as though she would wish to question him。
〃It is very hot here；〃 he continued； 〃and I am going out。 I am tired
of work。〃
He hesitated； and then added； 〃I should like you to come with me； if
you can spare the time。〃
She packed up her things at once； and the two friends moved slowly
away； he gazing absently at the pictures； and she wondering in her
mind as to the meaning of his strange mood。
When they were on the steps inside the building； he turned to Helen
Stanley and said：
〃I should like to go back to the pictures once more。 I feel as if I
must stand among them just a little longer。 They have been my
companions for so long that they are almost part of myself。 I can
close my eyes and recall them faithfully。 But I want to take a last
look at them； I want to feel once more the presence of the great
masters； and to refresh my mind with their genius。 When I look at
their work I think of their life； and can only wonder at their death。
It was so strange that they should die。〃
They went back together； and he took her to his favourite pictures；
but remained speechless before them； and she did not disturb his
thoughts。 At last he said：
〃I am ready to go。 I have said farewell to them all。 I know nothing
more wonderful than being among a number of fine pictures。 It is
almost overwhelming。 Once expects nature to be grand； but one does not
expect man to be grand。〃
〃You know we don't agree there；〃 she answered。 〃/I/ expect everything
grand and g