To THE LIGHTHoUsEearshot, that made Mr. Bankes almost immedi·ately say something about its being chilly andsuggest taking a stroll. She would come, yes.But it was with difliculty that she took her eyesoff her picture.

The jacmanna was bright violet; the wallstaring white. She would not have considered ithonest to tamper with the bright violet and thestaring white, since she saw them like that,fashionable though it was, since Mr. Paunce—forte’s visit, to see everything pale, elegant, semitransparent. Then beneath the colour there wasthe shape. She could see it all so clearly, socommandingly, when she looked: it was whenshe took her brush in hand that the whole thingchanged. It was in that moment’s flight betweenthe picture and her canvas that the demons set onher who often brought her to the verge of tearsand made this passage from conception to work asdreadful as any down a dark passage for a child.Such she often felt herself-——struggling againstterrific odds to maintain her courage; to say:‘ But this is what I see; this is what I see ", and soto clasp some miserable remnant of her vision toher breast, which a thousand forces did their bestto pluck from her. And it was then too, inthat chill and windy way, as she began to paint,that there forced themselves upon her other34

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