ighted. The
broad shoulders, the martial face that was like a disguise of his
disarmed soul, were lost in the gloom above the plane of light in which
his feet were planted. He suffered from a trouble with which she had
nothing to do. She had no general conception of the conditions of the
existence he had offered to her. Drawn into its peculiar stagnation she
remained unrelated to it because of her ignorance.

For instance, she could never perceive the prodigious improbability of
the arrival of that boat. She did not seem to be thinking of it. Perhaps
she had already forgotten the fact herself. And Heyst resolved suddenly
to say nothing more of it. It was not that he shrank from alarming her.
Not feeling anything definite himself he could not imagine a precise
effect being produced on her by any amount of explanation. There is a
quality in events which is apprehended differently by different minds
or even by the same mind at different times. Any man living at all
consciously knows that embarrassing truth. Heyst was aware that this
visit could bode nothing pleasant. In his present soured temper
towards all mankind he looked upon it as a visitation of a particularly
offensive kind.

He glanced along the veranda in the direction of the other bungalow. The
fire of sticks in front of it had gone out. No faint glow of embers, not
the slightest thread of light in that direction, hinted at the presence
of strangers. The darker shapes in the obscurity, the dead silence,
betrayed nothing of that strange intrusion. The peace of Samburan
asserted itself as on any other night. Everything was as before,
except--Heyst became aware of it suddenly--that for a whole minute,
perhaps, with his hand on the back of the girl's chair and within a foot
of her person, he had lost the sense of her existence, for the first
time since he had brought her over to share this invincible, this
undefiled peace. He picked up the lantern, and the act made a silent
stir all along the veranda. A spoke of shadow swung swiftly across her
face, and the strong light rested on the immobility of her features, as
of a woman looking at a vision. Her eyes were still, her lips serious.
Her dress, open at the neck, stirred slightly to her even breathing.

"We had better go in, Lena," suggested Heyst, very low, as if breaking a
spell cautiously.

She rose without a word. Heyst followed her indoors. As they passed
through the living-room, he left the lantern burning o