An' so, in coorse of time, they do say they comes
down into muryans an' such like insects."
"Piskeys or no piskeys, I've caught several in a trap and killed them."
"They'm gashly things, rats, an' I shouldn't think as no good piskeys would
turn into varmints like them."
"More should I. But something better than rats came to see me last night,
Joan. Guess who it was."
"I dunnaw."
"Why, you came!"
"Me, Mister Jan! You must a bin dreamin'!"
"Yes, of course I was; but such a lovely dream, Joan! You see, men who
paint pictures and love what is beautiful and dream about beautiful things
and beautiful people see all sorts of visions sometimes. I have pictures in
my head a thousand times more splendid than any I shall ever put upon
canvas, because mere paint-brushes cannot do much, even when they are in
the cleverest hands; but a man's brain is not bound down by material,
mechanical matters. My brain made a picture of you last night--a picture
that came and looked at me on my fern bed--a picture so real, so alive that
I could see it move and hear it laugh. You think that wonderful. It isn't
really, because my brain has done nothing but think of you now for nearly
six weeks. My eye studies you and stamps you upon my brain; then, when
night comes, and no man works, and the world is dark and silent, my brain
sets off on its own account and raises up a magic vision just to show me
what you really are--how different to this poor daub here.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135