way had slept. She told Biddy
that she only wanted to be left alone; and in that room she stayed
until the time came when she had to give her evidence. In the court
she did not turn a hair, though Biddy stood ready with a battery of
traditional restoratives in case she faltered.

Jocelyn had a very thin time of it. The strain made him more shaky
than usual, and when telegrams began to flutter in from Radway's
relatives a few days later--Radway had left no address and so they had
been forced to wire to the Halbertons--he threw up the sponge
altogether. His weakness was Considine's opportunity. Considine
undertook the whole management of the Radways' visit, received them,
conducted them to the room in which their son's remains were lying and
did his best to explain to them what he had been doing in this
outlandish place. I suppose that this kind of solemn condolence is
part of a parson's ordinary duties, but it must be admitted that
Considine performed it well. He impressed the Radways as being solid
and dependable and a gentleman. His capability and discretion made
them feel that Roscarna was not so disreputable and outlandish after
all. He scarcely mentioned Gabrielle, except as the only witness of
the accident, and the Radway family returned to England with their
son's body, satisfied that he had gone to Roscarna for the grouse
shooting on the invitation of people who, in spite of their
questionable appearance, were actually connected with the Halbertons,
and thankful that no element of intrigue or passion had any part in the
tragedy.

On their return they wrote Considine a long letter in which they
thanked him for his courtesy and regretted that their son's last
moments had not been rejoiced by his ghostly ministrations. As a
little thank-offering (not for their son's death, but for Considine's
kindness) they proposed the erection of a stained glass window in his
church, a proposal that Considine gladly accepted.

It was not until the Radways had disappeared and Roscarna began to
recoil into its old routine of life, that Gabrielle collapsed. The
blow to her imagination had been heavier than anyone dreamed, so
staggering, in its first impact, that for a time she had been numbed.
In a week or two, with returning consciousness, her sufferings began to
be felt. She could not sleep at night, and when she did sleep she
dreamed perpetually of one thing, the endless, precarious descent of a
slippery mountain-s