was
the giant whom they had seen descending along the rocks. When this was
made apparent Roderick was seized with a fit of intense hilarity--it was
the first time he had laughed in three months. Singleton, who carried
a knapsack and walking-staff, received from Rowland the friendliest
welcome. He was in the serenest possible humor, and if in the way of
luggage his knapsack contained nothing but a comb and a second shirt, he
produced from it a dozen admirable sketches. He had been trudging over
half Switzerland and making everywhere the most vivid pictorial notes.
They were mostly in a box at Interlaken, and in gratitude for Rowland's
appreciation, he presently telegraphed for his box, which, according to
the excellent Swiss method, was punctually delivered by post. The nights
were cold, and our friends, with three or four other chance sojourners,
sat in-doors over a fire of logs. Even with Roderick sitting moodily in
the outer shadow they made a sympathetic little circle, and they turned
over Singleton's drawings, while he perched in the chimney-corner,
blushing and grinning, with his feet on the rounds of his chair. He had
been pedestrianizing for six weeks, and he was glad to rest awhile at
Engelthal. It was an economic repose, however, for he sallied forth
every morning, with his sketching tools on his back, in search of
material for new studies. Roderick's hilarity, after the first evening,
had subsided, and he watched the little painter's serene activity with a
gravity that was almost portentous. Singleton, who was not in the secret
of his personal misfortunes, still treated him with timid frankness as
the rising star of American art. Roderick had said to Rowland, at
first, that Singleton reminded him of some curious little insect with a
remarkable mechanical instinct in its antennae; but as the days went by
it was apparent that the modest landscapist's unflagging industry grew
to have an oppressive meaning for him. It pointed a moral, and Roderick
used to sit and con the moral as he saw it figured in Singleton's bent
back, on the hot hill-sides, protruding from beneath his white umbrella.
One day he wandered up a long slope and overtook him as he sat at work;
Singleton related the incident afterwards to Rowland, who, after giving
him in Rome a hint of Roderick's aberrations, had strictly kept his own
counsel.

"Are you always like this?" said Roderick, in almost sepulchral accents.

"Like this?" repeated Singleto