nude oil painting

whether it would spread: but no; as it did not diminish, so it did not
enlarge. 'It may be a candle in a house,' I then conjectured; 'but
if so, I can never reach it. It is much too far away: and were it
within a yard of me, what would it avail? I should but knock at the
door to have it shut in my face.'
And I sank down where I stood, and hid my face against the
ground. I lay still a while: the night-wind swept over the hill and
over me, and died moaning in the distance; the rain fell fast, wetting
me afresh to the skin. Could I but have stiffened to the still
frost- the friendly numbness of death- it might have pelted on; I
should not have felt it; but my yet living flesh shuddered at its
chilling influence. I rose ere long.
The light was yet there, shining dim but constant through the rain.
I tried to walk again: I dragged my exhausted limbs slowly towards it.
It led me aslant over the hill, through a wide bog, which would have
been impassable in winter, and was splashy and shaking even now, in
the height of summer. Here I fell twice; but as often I rose and
rallied my faculties. This light was my forlorn hope: I must gain it.
Having crossed the marsh, I saw a trace of white over the moor. I
approached it; it was a road or a track: it led straight up to the
light, which now beamed from a sort of knoll, amidst a clump of trees-