‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. If any of you—or all of you feel the same in six months’ time from to-day, will you come, if you care to, and see me then?” There was a brief silence. We shall have him on his return. The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes. " "Tell him so, and have done with him, Sir Rowland," observed Jonathan coldly. 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.
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