Indeed, that dim premonitory whisper excited a moment's anger in the girl
that any distrust could shadow her love for such a one at such a time. She
hated herself, held the thought a sin of her own commission, and sped
onward until she stood upon the northern side of the byre in a shadow cast
from it by the sun. The place was padlocked, and at that sight Joan's
spirits, though they rose in one direction, yet fell in another. One fear
vanished, a second loomed the larger; for the padlock, while it indicated
that the artist had left his lonely habitation for the time, did not
explain his absence now or dispel the possibilities of an accident or
disaster. The tar-pitched double door of the shed was fast and offered no
peep-hole; but Joan went round to the south side, where an aperture
appeared and where a little glass window had taken the place of the wooden
shutters. Sunshine lighted the shed inside; she could see every detail of
the chamber, and she photographed it on her mind with a quick glance. A big
easel with the life-size picture of herself upon it stood in the middle of
the shed, and a smaller easel appeared hard by. The artist's palettes,
brushes and colors littered a bench, and bottles and tumblers were
scattered among them. Two pipes which she had seen in his mouth lay
together upon a box on the floor, and beside them stood a tin of tobacco
wrapped in yellow paper.
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