"I envy
her strength. Well, if she wants me, she knows where to find me--just
beyond that bend there." He pointed to the river.
"I'll tell her--and I'll give her the sketch. Good-bye."
She watched him heavily cross the foot-bridge to the other side of the
river. Her quick pity went with him, for she herself knew well what it
meant to be solitary and neglected. He seldom sold a picture, and nobody
knew what he lived on. The few lessons he had given Helena had been as a
golden gleam in a very grey day. But alack, Helena had soon tired of her
lessons, as she had tired of the mile of coveted trout-fishing that Mr.
Evans of the farm beyond the oak-wood had pressed upon her--or of the
books the young Welsh-speaking curate of the little mountain church near
by was so eager to lend her. Through and behind a much gentler manner,
the girl's familiar self was to be felt--by Lucy at least--as clearly as
before. She was neither to be held nor bound. Attempt to lay any fetter
upon her--of hours, or habit--and she was gone; into the heart of the
mountains where no one could follow her.
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