? ? ? ? He sat down, looking intently at me, and listened in profound silence to all I had to tell. I well remember the sense of dignity, beauty even, with which the patient gravity of his face impressed me, when, having gradually removed his eyes from mine, he sat looking downward, leaning his forehead on his hand. He offered no interruption, but remained throughout perfectly still. He seemed to pursue her figure through the narrative, and to let every other shape go by him, as if it were nothing.
? ? ? ? When I had done, he shaded his face, and continued silent. I looked out of the window for a little while, and occupied myself with the plants.
? ? ? ? 'How do you fare to feel about it, Mas'r Davy?' he inquired at length.
? ? ? ? 'I think that she is living,' I replied.
? ? ? ? 'I doen't know. Maybe the first shock was too rough, and in the wildness of her art -! That there blue water as she used to speak on. Could she have thowt o' that so many year, because it was to be her grave!'
? ? ? ? He said this, musing, in a low, frightened voice; and walked across the little room.
? ? ? ? 'And yet,' he added, 'Mas'r Davy, I have felt so sure as she was living - I have know'd, awake and sleeping, as it was so trew that I should find her - I have been so led on by it, and held up by it - that I doen't believe I can have been deceived.
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