“Your presence would be more good than any service you could render.” “Then I will go and get my husband to accompany us. He is charitable, and likes to do these things with me.” “I have just come from his studio; he is very busy now, and I think he would prefer not being interrupted. I have been down all the morning giving a few criticisms on that ‘Seaweed Gatherer.’ That is truly a work of art. But surely you will not refuse me that friendly service.” “Where would you have me go, and whom to see?” “A young girl who is dying without a kind word.” “A woman--has she no friends or means?”. “I am the only friend she has, the pure, noble, unfortunate,” he said, aiming at tenderness. “Indeed, I never refuse to help anyone, when I can, but really I prefer someone to be the bearer.” “Yes, but she has requested me to bring you; this desire comes from a dying human being.” “But, pray what does she know of me; I do not understand?” she asked, disapprovingly. “You might get yourself and me into a scrape.” “She has been a model for Robert as well as myself; you have seen her at the studio, and she fairly worships your beauty, your gentleness.” “Strange my husband has never mentioned her reduced condition. I fail to recall her,” and she drew back with a sinking of heart; she wanted to do what was right, always. “Oh, think again. I am sure you saw her when you and Robert came to see my ‘Madonna’; I was working on her then.” “Yes, I do recall a beautiful girl who was posing that day. If it is from her, this request, I will go.” “Thank you, thank you; she will be so nearly happy, for she has never failed to speak of you whenever I have seen her. I shall never forget how she raved when she saw you, and a question she asked.” “What was that?” “‘Does her heart fulfill the promise of her eyes?’ she asked me, as though the answer was of great importance. “I asked what she meant. “She answered, ‘They promise to make some one happy; to remove all troubles and cares, making a heavenly paradise upon this earth?’ She wanted to see you, so that you might swear that this promise would be kept.” “She must be an enthusiast,” Cherokee reflected, losing all sense of the strangeness of this question for the time. They started on in the direction that Frost wanted to go. She felt as though she was walking through yellow rustling leaves, as she had done back in her lesson-days, when she was trying to steal away from the teacher or playmates on the lawn. More than once, as she hurried along, Cherokee asked herself if she were not imitating the leopard, and developing another spot of foolishness. When they reached the place there was nothing strange or unusual about it. He opened the door and walked in, as though he was accustomed to going there; then he softly pushed an inner door and peeped in. “She is sleeping now, poor tired soul; her greatest blessing is sleep”--offering Cherokee a chair, “we will wait awhile.”