death upon it, her husband's name and her own , and these words, which, under the compelling eyes of the picture, I laboriously studied out:—
"I have been able to keep you near me, even in death. I have never been separated from you, or from what was you to me once. But when death shall come to me you will have no power over my body, and they will take me from you. That I am unable to help. I think only of this: you cannot suffer for it, since you have have so long ceased to be, and by that time my suffering also will be over. I shall put my spirit into the eyes of my picture, which will watch over you still."
I looked from the paper to the picture. It seemed dull and inexpressive,—mere canvas and paint. The power of the eyes was gone. Their spell over me was broken.
Suddenly I felt within me a long-absent yearning for human companionship,—for life and love. I had come to this place impelled by a morbid and unhealthy desire for solitude, and my experiences here had made me more morbid and unhealthy still. They had culminated now in this awful revelation of disappointment and death, which threw into brilliant contrast the bright possibilities which still remained to me, and I resolved to go back into the world and do my best to deserve and win these.
