ButTorpenhowwasinthesouthofEngland，inspectingdockyardsinthecompanyoftheNilghaiHisletterswerebriefandfullofmystery。
DickhadneveraskedanybodytohelphiminhisjoysorhissorrowsHeargued，inthelonelinessofhisstudio，henceforwardtobedecoratedwithafilmofgraygauzeinonecorner，that，ifhisfatewereblindness，alltheTorpenhowsintheworldcouldnotsavehim’Ican’tcallhimoffhistriptositdownandsympathisewithmeImustpullthroughthisbusinessalone，’hesaidHewaslyingonthesofa，eatinghismoustacheandwonderingwhatthedarknessofthenightwouldbelikeThencametohismindthememoryofaquaintsceneintheSoudanAsoldierhadbeennearlyhackedintwobyabroad-bladedArabspearForoneinstantthemanfeltnopainLookingdown，hesawthathislife-bloodwasgoingfromhimThestupidbewildermentonhisfacewassointenselycomicthatbothDickandTorpenhow，stillpantingandunstrungfromafightforlife，hadroaredwithlaughter，inwhichthemanseemedasifhewouldjoin，but，ashislipspartedinasheepishgrin，theagonyofdeathcameuponhim，andhepitchedgruntingattheirfeetDicklaughedagain，rememberingthehorrorItseemedsoexactlylikehisowncase。
’ButIhavealittlemoretimeallowedme，’hesaidHepacedupanddowntheroom，quietlyatfirst，butafterwardswiththehurriedfeetoffearItwasasthoughablackshadowstoodathiselbowandurgedhimtogoforward；andtherewereonlyweavingcirclesandfloatingpin-dotsbeforehiseyes。
’Weneedtobecalm，Binkie；wemustbecalm。’Hetalkedaloudforthesakeofdistraction’Thisisn’tniceatallWhatshallwedo？WemustdosomethingOurtimeisshortIshouldn’thavebelievedthatthismorning；
butnowthingsaredifferentBinkie，wherewasMoseswhenthelightwentout？’
Binkiesmiledfromeartoear，asawell-bredterriershould，butmadenosuggestion。
’“Weretherebutworldenoughandtime，Thiscoyness，Binkie，werenotcrimeButatmybackIalwayshear——“’Hewipedhisforehead，whichwasunpleasantlydamp’WhatcanIdo？WhatcanIdo？I
haven’tanynotionsleft，andIcan’tthinkconnectedly，butImustdosomething，orIshallgooffmyhead。’
Thehurriedwalkrecommenced，Dickstoppingeverynowandagaintodragforthlong-neglectedcanvasesandoldnote-books；forheturnedtohisworkbyinstinct，asathingthatcouldnotfail’Youwon’tdo，andyouwon’tdo，’hesaid，ateachinspection’NomoresoldiersIcouldn’tpaint’emSuddendeathcomeshometoonearly，andthisisbattleandmurderforme。’
Thedaywasfailing，andDickthoughtforamomentthatthetwilightoftheblindhadcomeuponhimunaware’AllahAlmighty！’hecrieddespairingly，’helpmethroughthetimeofwaiting，andIwon’twhinewhenmypunishmentcomesWhatcanIdonow，beforethelightgoes？’
TherewasnoanswerDickwaitedtillhecouldregainsomesortofcontroloverhimselfHishandswereshaking，andhepridedhimselfontheirsteadiness；hecouldfeelthathislipswerequivering，andthesweatwasrunningdownhisfaceHewaslashedbyfear，drivenforwardbythedesiretogettoworkatonceandaccomplishsomething，andmaddenedbytherefusalofhisbraintodomorethanrepeatthenewsthathewasabouttogoblind’It’sahumiliatingexhibition，’hethought，’andI’mgladTorpisn’theretoseeThedoctorsaidIwastoavoidmentalworry。
Comehereandletmepetyou，Binkie。’
ThelittledogyelpedbecauseDicknearlysqueezedthebarkoutofhim。
Thenheheardthemanspeakinginthetwilight，and，doglike，understoodthathistroublestoodofffromhim——
’Allahisgood，BinkieNotquitesogentleaswecouldwish，butwe’lldiscussthatlaterIthinkIseemywaytoitnowAllthosestudiesofBessie’sheadwerenonsense，andtheynearlybroughtyourmasterintoascrapeIholdthenotionnowasclearascrystal，——“theMelancoliathattranscendsallwit。”ThereshallbeMaisieinthathead，becauseI
shallnevergetMaisie；andBess，ofcourse，becausesheknowsallaboutMelancolia，thoughshedoesn’tknowsheknows；andthereshallbesomedrawinginit，anditshallallendupwithalaughThat’sformyself。
Shallshegiggleorgrin？No，sheshalllaughrightoutofthecanvas，andeverymanandwomanthateverhadasorrowoftheirownshall——whatisitthepoemsays？——
’UnderstandthespeechandfeelastirOffellowshipinalldisastrousfight。
“Inalldisastrousfight“？That’sbetterthanpaintingthethingmerelytopiqueMaisieIcandoitnowbecauseIhaveitinsidemeBinkie，I’mgoingtoholdyouupbyyourtailYou’reanomenComehere。’
Binkieswungheaddownwardforamomentwithoutspeaking。
’Ratherlikeholdingaguinea-pig；butyou’reabravelittledog，andyoudon’tyelpwhenyou’rehungupItisanomen。’
Binkiewenttohisownchair，andasoftenashelookedsawDickwalkingupanddown，rubbinghishandsandchucklingThatnightDickwrotealettertoMaisiefullofthetenderestregardforherhealth，butsayingverylittleabouthisown，anddreamedoftheMelancoliatobebornNottillmorningdidherememberthatsomethingmighthappentohiminthefuture。
Hefelltowork，whistlingsoftly，andwasswallowedupintheclean，clearjoyofcreation，whichdoesnotcometomantoooften，lestheshouldconsiderhimselftheequalofhisGod，andsorefusetodieattheappointedtimeHeforgotMaisie，Torpenhow，andBinkieathisfeet，butrememberedtostirBessie，whoneededverylittlestirring，intoatremendousrage，thathemightwatchthesmoulderinglightsinhereyes。
Hethrewhimselfwithoutreservationintohiswork，anddidnotthinkofthedoomthatwastoovertakehim，forhewaspossessedwithhisnotion，andthethingsofthisworldhadnopoweruponhim。
’You’repleasedto-day，’saidBessie。
Dickwavedhismahl-stickinmysticcirclesandwenttothesideboardforadrinkIntheevening，whentheexaltationofthedayhaddieddown，hewenttothesideboardagain，andaftersomevisitsbecameconvincedthattheeye-doctorwasaliar，sincehecouldstillseeeverythingveryclearly。
HewasofopinionthathewouldevenmakeahomeforMaisie，andthatwhethershelikeditornotsheshouldbehiswifeThemoodpassednextmorning，butthesideboardandalluponitremainedforhiscomfort。
Againhesettowork，andhiseyestroubledhimwithspotsanddashesandblurstillhehadtakencounselwiththesideboard，andtheMelancoliabothonthecanvasandinhisownmindappearedlovelierthaneverTherewasadelightfulsenseofirresponsibilityuponhim，suchastheyfeelwhowalkingamongtheirfellow-menknowthatthedeath-sentenceofdiseaseisuponthem，and，seeingthatfearisbutwasteofthelittletimeleft，areriotouslyhappyThedayspassedwithoutevent。
Bessiearrivedpunctuallyalways，and，thoughhervoiceseemedtoDicktocomefromadistance，herfacewasalwaysverynearTheMelancoliabegantoflameonthecanvas，inthelikenessofawomanwhohadknownallthesorrowintheworldandwaslaughingatitItwastruethatthecornersofthestudiodrapedthemselvesingrayfilmandretiredintothedarkness，thatthespotsinhiseyesandthepainsacrosshisheadwereverytroublesome，andthatMaisie’sletterswerehardtoreadandharderstilltoanswerHecouldnottellherofhistrouble，andhecouldnotlaughatheraccountsofherownMelancoliawhichwasalwaysgoingtobefinishedButthefuriousdaysoftoilandthenightsofwilddreamsmadeamendsforall，andthesideboardwashisbestfriendonearth。
BessiewassingularlydullSheusedtoshriekwithragewhenDickstaredatherbetweenhalf-closedeyesNowshesulked，orwatchedhimwithdisgust，sayingverylittle。
TorpenhowhadbeenabsentforsixweeksAnincoherentnoteheraldedhisreturn’News！greatnews！’hewrote’TheNilghaiknows，andsodoestheKeneuWe’reallbackonThursdayGetlunchandcleanyouraccoutrements。’
DickshowedBessietheletter，andsheabusedhimforthathehadeversentTorpenhowawayandruinedherlife。
’Well，’saidDick，brutally，’you’rebetterasyouare，insteadofmakinglovetosomedrunkenbeastinthestreet。’HefeltthathehadrescuedTorpenhowfromgreattemptation。
’Idon’tknowifthat’sanyworsethansittingtoadrunkenbeastinastudioYouhaven’tbeensoberforthreeweeksYou’vebeensoakingthewholetime；andyetyoupretendyou’rebetterthanme！’
’Whatd’youmean？’saidDick。
’Mean！You’llseewhenMrTorpenhowcomesback。’
ItwasnotlongtowaitTorpenhowmetBessieonthestaircasewithoutasignoffeelingHehadnewsthatwasmoretohimthanmanyBessies，andtheKeneuandtheNilghaiweretramplingbehindhim，callingforDick。
’Drinkinglikeafish，’Bessiewhispered’He’sbeenatitfornearlyamonth。’Shefollowedthemenstealthilytohearjudgmentdone。
Theycameintothestudio，rejoicing，tobewelcomedovereffusivelybyadrawn，lined，shrunken，haggardwreck，——unshaven，blue-whiteaboutthenostrils，stoopingintheshoulders，andpeeringunderhiseyebrowsnervouslyThedrinkhadbeenatworkassteadilyasDick。
’Isthisyou？’saidTorpenhow。
’Allthat’sleftofmeSitdownBinkie’squitewell，andI’vebeendoingsomegoodwork。’Hereeledwherehestood。
’You’vedonesomeoftheworstworkyou’veeverdoneinyourlife。
Manalive，you’re——’
Torpenhowturnedtohiscompanionsappealingly，andtheylefttheroomtofindlunchelsewhereThenhespoke；but，sincethereproofofafriendismuchtoosacredandintimateathingtobeprinted，andsinceTorpenhowusedfiguresandmetaphorswhichwereunseemly，andcontemptuntranslatable，itwillneverbeknownwhatwasactuallysaidtoDick，whoblinkedandwinkedandpickedathishandsAfteratimetheculpritbegantofeeltheneedofalittleself-respectHewasquitesurethathehadnotinanywaydepartedfromvirtue，andtherewerereasons，too，ofwhichTorpenhowknewnothingHewouldexplain。
Herose，triedtostraightenhisshoulders，andspoketothefacehecouldhardlysee。
’Youareright，’hesaid’ButIamright，tooAfteryouwentawayI
hadsometroublewithmyeyesSoIwenttoanoculist，andheturnedagasogene——Imeanagas-engine——intomyeyeThatwasverylongagoHesaid，“Scaronthehead，——sword-cutandopticnerve。”MakeanoteofthatSoIamgoingblindIhavesomeworktodobeforeIgoblind，andI
supposethatImustdoitIcannotseemuchnow，butIcanseebestwhenIamdrunkIdidnotknowIwasdrunktillIwastold，butImustgoonwithmyworkIfyouwanttoseeit，thereitis。’HepointedtotheallbutfinishedMelancoliaandlookedforapplause。
Torpenhowsaidnothing，andDickbegantowhimperfeebly，forjoyatseeingTorpenhowagain，forgriefatmisdeeds——ifindeedtheyweremisdeeds——thatmadeTorpenhowremoteandunsympathetic，andforchildishvanityhurt，sinceTorpenhowhadnotgivenawordofpraisetohiswonderfulpicture。
Bessielookedthroughthekeyholeafteralongpause，andsawthetwowalkingupanddownasusual，Torpenhow’shandonDick’sshoulder。
HereatshesaidsomethingsoimproperthatitshockedevenBinkie，whowasdribblingpatientlyonthelandingwiththehopeofseeinghismasteragain。
CHAPTERXI
ThelarkwillmakeherhymntoGod，Thepartridgecallherbrood，WhileIforgettheheathItrod，ThefieldswhereinIstood。
’Tisduletoknownotnightfrommorn，ButdeeperduletoknowIcanbuthearthehunter’shornThatonceIusedtoblow——
TheOnlySon-
ITWASthethirddayafterTorpenhow’sreturn，andhisheartwasheavy。
’Doyoumeantotellmethatyoucan’tseetoworkwithoutwhiskey？It’sgenerallytheotherwayabout。’
’Canadrunkardswearonhishonour？’saidDick。
’Yes，ifhehasbeenasgodamanasyou。’
’ThenIgiveyoumywordofhonour，’saidDick，speakinghurriedlythroughparchedlips’Oldman，Icanhardlyseeyourfacenow。
You’vekeptmesoberfortwodays，——ifIeverwasdrunk，——andI’vedonenowork。
Don’tkeepmebackanymoreIdon’tknowwhenmyeyesmaygiveout。
ThespotsanddotsandthepainsandthingsarecrowdingworsethaneverIswearIcanseeallrightwhenI’m——whenI’mmoderatelyscrewed，asyousayGivemethreemoresittingsfromBessieandall——thestuffI
want，andthepicturewillbedoneIcan’tkillmyselfinthreedays。
ItonlymeansatouchofDTattheworst。’
’IfIgiveyouthreedaysmorewillyoupromisemetostopworkand——theotherthing，whetherthepicture’sfinishedornot？’
’Ican’tYoudon’tknowwhatthatpicturemeanstomeButsurelyyoucouldgettheNilghaitohelpyou，andknockmedownandtiemeupI
shouldn’tfightforthewhiskey，butIshouldforthework。’
’Goon，thenIgiveyouthreedays；butyou’renearlybreakingmyheart。’
Dickreturnedtohiswork，toilingasonepossessed；andtheyellowdevilofwhiskeystoodbyhimandchasedawaythespotsinhiseyes。
TheMelancoliawasnearlyfinished，andwasallornearlyallthathehadhopedshewouldbeDickjestedwithBessie，whoremindedhimthathewas’adrunkenbeast’；butthereproofdidnotmovehim。