ower, so much slower that
there were times when Muriel, listening intently, fancied that it
had wholly ceased. She held the little slim body close in her arms,
jealously close, as though she were defying Death itself. And ever
through the stillness she could hear her own heart beating like the
hoofs of a galloping horse.

Slowly the night began to pass. The outline of the window-frame became
visible against a faint grey glimmer. The window was open, and a
breath of the coming dawn wandered in with the fragrance of drenched
roses. A soft rain was falling. The patter of it could be heard upon
the leaves.

Again Muriel listened for the failing breath, listened closely,
tensely, her face bent low to the fair head that lay so still upon her
breast.

But she heard nothing--nothing but her own heart quickening,
quickening, from fear to suspense, from suspense to the anguish of
conviction.

She lifted her face at last, and in the same instant there arose
a sudden flood of song from the sleeping garden, as the first lark
soared to meet the dawn.

Half-dazed, she listened to that marvellous outpouring of gladness, so
wildly rapturous, so weirdly holy. On, ever on, pealed the bird-voice;
on to the very Gates of Heaven, and it seemed to the girl who
listened as though she heard a child's spirit singing up the steeps
of Paradise. With her heart she followed it till suddenly she heard
no more. The voice ceased as it had begun, ceased as a burst of music
when an open door is closed--and there fell in its stead a silence
that could be felt.

CHAPTER XXXV

THE ARMISTICE

She could not have said for how long she sat motionless, the slight,
inert body clasped against her breast. Vaguely she knew that the
night passed, and with it the wondrous silence that had lain like a
benediction upon the dawn. A thousand living things awoke to rejoice
in the crystal splendour of the morning; but within the quiet room the
spell remained unlifted, the silence lay untouched. It was as though
the presence of Death had turned it into a peaceful sanctuary that no
mere earthly tumult could disturb.

She sat in a species of waking stupor for a long, long time, not
daring to move lest the peace that enfolded her should be shattered.
Higher and higher the sun climbed up the sky till at last it topped
the cedar-trees and shone in upon her, throwing a single ray of purest
gold across the foot of the bed. Fascinated, she watched it travel
sl