er was
not a subject on which she cared to encourage confidences.

Her fatigue had merely created a wholesome desire for rest,--the
sleepiness and indifference that come from weary muscles. But Pats's
exhaustion was of a different sort. All the strength of his body had
departed. Every muscle, cord, and sinew was unstrung. His spine seemed
on the point of folding up. A hollow, nervous feeling had settled in the
back of his head, and being something new it caused him a mild
uneasiness. Moreover, his hands and feet were cold. Dispiriting chills
travelled up and down his back at intervals. This might be owing to the
change in temperature, as a storm was evidently brewing.

The wind from the northwest had grown several degrees colder since the
sun went down, and the heavens were sombre. There was not a star in
sight. A yearning to close his eyes and go to sleep came over him, but
he remembered how offensive was his presence to this lady, even at his
best behavior. He must take no liberties; so he remarked, cheerfully, in
a tone indicative of suppressed exuberance of spirit:

"I hope you will not feel nervous in your chateau to-night."

"No, I think not. It is a weird place to sleep in, however."

"Yes, it is. Wouldn't you like me to sleep just outside, near the door?
I am used to camping out, you know."

"No, I thank you. I shall get along very well, I have no doubt."

After that a prolonged silence. At last the lady arose.

"I think I shall go in, Mr. Boyd. I find I am very tired."

While they were groping about the cottage for a lamp, Elinor remembered
two candelabra that stood upon a cabinet, stately works of art in bronze
and gilt, very heavy, with five candles to each. One of them was taken
down.

"Don't light them all," said Elinor. "We must not be extravagant."

But Pats did light them all, saying: "This is a special occasion, and
you are the guest of honor."

The guest of honor looked around this ever-surprising interior and
experienced a peculiar sense of fear. She kept it to herself, however;
but as her eyes moved swiftly from the life-sized figures in the
tapestry to the sharply defined busts, and then to the canvas faces, the
whole room seemed alive with people.

"Plenty of company here," said Pats, reading her expression. "But in
your chamber, there, you will have fewer companions, only the host and
his wife." Then, with a smile, "Excuse my suggesting it, if an
impertinence, but if you would like