s.
His little companion wagged a miserable wet tail some way in advance. He
went an slowly, thinking indistinctly. After two or three steps he
stooped and stretched out his hand to feel for the flower, having, he
knew not why, a strong wish to verify its growth there. Groping about,
his hand encountered something warm that started at his touch, and he,
with the instinct we have, seized it, and lifted it to look at it. The
creature was very small, evidently quite young. Richard's eyes, now
accustomed to the darkness, were able to discern it for what it was, a
tiny leveret, and ha supposed that the dog had probably frightened its
dam just before he found it. He put the little thing on one hand in his
breast, and stepped out rapidly as before.

The rain was now steady; from every tree a fountain poured. So cool and
easy had his mind become that he was speculating on what kind of shelter
the birds could find, and how the butterflies and moths saved their
coloured wings from washing. Folded close they might hang under a leaf,
he thought. Lovingly he looked into the dripping darkness of the coverts
on each side, as one of their children. He was next musing on a strange
sensation he experienced. It ran up one arm with an indescribable thrill,
but communicated nothing to his heart. It was purely physical, ceased for
a time, and recommenced, till he had it all through his blood,
wonderfully thrilling. He grew aware that the little thing he carried in
his breast was licking his hand there. The small rough tongue going over
and over the palm of his hand produced the strange sensation he felt. Now
that he knew the cause, the marvel ended; but now that he knew the cause,
his heart was touched and made more of it. The gentle scraping continued
without intermission as on he walked. What did it say to him? Human
tongue could not have said so much just then.

A pale grey light on the skirts of the flying tempest displayed the dawn.
Richard was walking hurriedly. The green drenched weeds lay all about in
his path, bent thick, and the forest drooped glimmeringly. Impelled as a
man who feels a revelation mounting obscurely to his brain, Richard was
passing one of those little forest-chapels, hung with votive wreaths,
where the peasant halts to kneel and pray. Cold, still, in the twilight
it stood, rain-drops pattering round it. He looked within, and saw the
Virgin holding her Child. He moved by. But not many steps had he gone ere
his stre