random, the sun hung a
hand's breadth over the woods. Later it seemed to become entangled
amid new leaves and half-naked branches, hanging there motionless,
blinding, glittering through an eternity of time.

And yet he did not notice when twilight came, nor when the dusk's
purple turned to night until he saw lights turned up on both floors.

Nobody summoned him to dinner but he did not notice that. Connor came
to him there in the darkness and said that two other physicians had
arrived with another nurse. He went into the library where they were
just leaving to mount the stairs. They looked at him as they passed
but merely bowed and said nothing.

A steady, persistent clangour vibrated in his brain, dulling it, so
that senses like sight and hearing seemed slow as though drugged.

Suddenly like a sword the most terrible fear he ever knew passed
through him.... And after a while the dull, ringing clangour came
back, dinning, stupefying, interminable. Yet he was conscious of every
sound, every movement on the floor above.

* * * * *

One of the physicians came halfway down the stairs, looked at him; and
he rose mechanically and went up.

He saw nothing clearly in the room until he bent over Athalie.

Her eyes unclosed. She whispered: "It is all right, beloved."

Somebody led him out. He kept on, conscious of the grasp on his arm,
but seeing nothing.

* * * * *

He had been walking for a long while, somewhere between light and
darkness,--perhaps for hours, perhaps minutes. Then somebody came who
laid an arm about his shoulder and spoke of courage.

Other people were in the room, now. One said:

"Don't go up yet."... Once he noticed a woman, Mrs. Connor, crying.
Connor led her away.

Others moved about or stood silent; and some one was always drawing
near him, speaking of courage. It was odd that so much darkness should
invade a lighted room.

Then somebody came down the stairs, noiselessly. The house was very
still.

And at last they let him go upstairs.

CHAPTER XXX

Lights yet burned on the lower floors and behind the drawn blinds of
Athalie's room. The night was quiet and soft and lovely; the moon
still young in its first quarter.

There was no wind to blow the fountain jet, so that every drop fell
straight back where the slim column of water broke against a strip of
stars above the garden wall. Somewhere in distant darkness the