ellows marched! We hang,
you see, on the skirts of our profession and criticise; it is all we are
fit for." His black eyes, restless and malevolent like a swan's, seemed
to stab her face. "A fine evening! Too hot. The storm is wanted; you
feel that? It is weary waiting for the storm; but after the storm, my
dear young lady, comes peace." He smiled, gently, this time, and baring
his head again, was lost to view in the shadow of the trees.

His figure had seemed to Christian like the sudden vision of a
threatening, hidden force. She thrust out her hands, as though to keep
it off.

No use; it was within her, nothing could keep it away! She went to Mrs.
Decie's room, where her aunt and Miss Naylor were conversing in low
tones. To hear their voices brought back the touch of this world of
everyday which had no part or lot in the terrifying powers within her.

Dawney slept at the Villa now. In the dead of night he was awakened by a
light flashed in his eyes. Christian was standing there, her face pale
and wild with terror, her hair falling in dark masses on her shoulders.

"Save him! Save him!" she cried. "Quick! The bleeding!"

He saw her muffle her face in her white sleeves, and seizing the candle,
leaped out of bed and rushed away.

The internal haemorrhage had come again, and Nicholas Treffry wavered
between life and death. When it had ceased, he sank into a sort of
stupor. About six o'clock he came back to consciousness; watching his
eyes, they could see a mental struggle taking place within him. At last
he singled Christian out from the others by a sign.

"I'm beat, Chris," he whispered. "Let him know, I want to see him."

His voice grew a little stronger. "I thought that I could see it
through--but here's the end." He lifted his hand ever so little, and let
it fall again. When told a little later that a telegram had been sent to
Harz his eyes expressed satisfaction.

Herr Paul came down in ignorance of the night's events. He stopped in
front of the barometer and tapped it, remarking to Miss Naylor: "The
glass has gone downstairs; we shall have cool weather--it will still go
well with him!"

When, with her brown face twisted by pity and concern, she told him that
it was a question of hours, Herr Paul turned first purple, then pale, and
sitting down, trembled violently. "I cannot believe it," he exclaimed
almost angrily. "Yesterday he was so well! I cannot believe it! Poor
Nicholas! Y