which ensured the truth of his simple and powerful portraits. But
Sharples had long been away in the West; and Carne, having taste for
no art except his own, had despatched his dog Orso, the fiercer of the
pair, at the only son of a brush who had lately made ready to encamp
against that tree; upon which he decamped, and went over the cliff, with
a loss of much personal property.

The tree looked ghostly in the shady light, and gaunt armstretch of
departing darkness, going as if it had not slept its sleep out. Now
was the time when the day is afraid of coming, and the night unsure of
going, and a large reluctance to acknowledge any change keeps everything
waiting for another thing to move. What is the use of light and shadow,
the fuss of the morning, and struggle for the sun? Fair darkness has
filled all the gaps between them, and why should they be sever'd into
single life again? For the gladness of daybreak is not come yet, nor
the pleasure of seeing the way again, the lifting of the darkness leaves
heaviness beneath it, and if a rashly early bird flops down upon the
grass, he cannot count his distance, but quivers like a moth.

"Pest on this abominable early work!" muttered Carne with a yawn, as he
groped his way through the deep gloom of black foliage, and entered the
hollow of the ancient trunk; "it is all very well for sailors, but too
hard upon a quiet gentleman. Very likely that fellow won't come for two
hours. What a cursed uncomfortable maggoty place! But I'll have put
the sleep he has robbed me of." He stretched his long form on the rough
bench inside, gathered his cloak around him, and roused the dull echo of
the honey-combed hollow with long loud snores.

"Awake, my vigilant commander, and behold me! Happy are the landsmen, to
whom the stars bring sleep. I have not slept for three nights, and the
fruits are here for you."

It was the lively voice of Renaud Charron; and the rosy fan of the dawn,
unfolded over the sea and the gray rocks, glanced with a flutter of
shade into the deep-ribbed tree. Affecting a lofty indifference, Carne,
who had a large sense of his own dignity, rose slowly and came out into
the better light. "Sit down, my dear friend," he said, taking the sealed
packet; "there is bread and meat here, and a bottle of good Macon. You
are nearly always hungry, and you must be starved now."

Charron perceived that his mouth was offered employment at the expense
of his eyes; but the kernel of the