tevens. "Although
he could be very fond of people, he always gave one the impression of
being detached. He disliked violent emotion; he was reflective, and
rather distrustful of himself--except, of course, as regarded his work.
He was sure enough there. He distrusted men pretty thoroughly and women
even more, yet somehow without believing ill of them. He was determined,
indeed, to believe the best; but he seemed afraid to investigate."

"A burnt dog dreads the fire," said the lawyer grimly, and closed his
eyes.

Steavens went on and on, reconstructing that whole miserable boyhood. All
this raw, biting ugliness had been the portion of the man whose mind was
to become an exhaustless gallery of beautiful impressions--so sensitive
that the mere shadow of a poplar leaf flickering against a sunny wall
would be etched and held there for ever. Surely, if ever a man had the
magic word in his finger tips, it was Merrick. Whatever he touched, he
revealed its holiest secret; liberated it from enchantment and restored
it to its pristine loveliness. Upon whatever he had come in contact with,
he had left a beautiful record of the experience--a sort of ethereal
signature; a scent, a sound, a colour that was his own.

Steavens understood now the real tragedy of his master's life; neither
love nor wine, as many had conjectured; but a blow which had fallen
earlier and cut deeper than anything else could have done--a shame not
his, and yet so unescapably his, to bide in his heart from his very
boyhood. And without--the frontier warfare; the yearning of a boy, cast
ashore upon a desert of newness and ugliness and sordidness, for all that
is chastened and old, and noble with traditions.

At eleven o'clock the tall, flat woman in black announced that the
watchers were arriving, and asked them to "step into the dining-room." As
Steavens rose, the lawyer said dryly: "You go on--it'll be a good
experience for you. I'm not equal to that crowd tonight; I've had twenty
years of them."

As Steavens closed the door after him he glanced back at the lawyer,
sitting by the coffin in the dim light, with his chin resting on his
hand.

The same misty group that had stood before the door of the express car
shuffled into the dining-room. In the light of the kerosene lamp they
separated and became individuals. The minister, a pale, feeble-looking
man with white hair and blond chin-whiskers, took his seat beside a small
side table and placed his Bible u