o appallingly immense, seemed even
familiar and small to him, as the eyes of his mind looked out ahead.

From his bed he could see on the opposite wall the picture Judith had given
him, always so fresh and cool and dim with its deep restful tones of blue,
of the herdsmen and the cattle on the dark mountain rim at dawn. And
vaguely he wondered whether it was because he saw more clearly, or whether
his mind in this curious haze could no longer see so well, that as he
looked before him he felt no fear nor any more uncertainty. All his doubts
had lifted, he was so sure of Judith now. As though she were coming to meet
him, her image grew more vivid, with memories emerging out of all the years
gone by. What memories, what vivid scenes! What intimate conversations they
had, her voice so natural, close in his ear, as together they planned for
their children.... Wistfully he would search the years for what he should
soon tell his wife--until the drowsiness returned, and then again came
visions.

But by day it was not so, for the life of the house would rouse him and at
intervals hold his attention.

One evening a slight rustle, a faint fragrance in the room, made Roger
suddenly open his eyes. And he saw Laura by his bed, her slender figure
clad in blue silk, something white at her full bosom. He noticed her
shapely shoulders, her glossy hair and moist red lips. She was smiling down
at him.

"See what I've brought you, dear," she said. And she turned to a chair
where, one on the other, tray after tray, was piled his whole collection of
rings. At sight of them his eyes grew fixed; he could feel his pulse beat
faster.

"How did you ever find them?" he asked his daughter huskily.

"Oh, I had a long hunt all by myself. But I found them at last and I've
brought them home. Shall we look them over a little while?"

"Yes," he said. She turned up the light, and came and sat down at the
bedside with a tray of rings in her lap. One by one she held them up to his
gaze, still smiling and talking softly on in that rich melodious voice of
hers, of which he heard but snatches. How good it felt to be so gay. No
solemn thoughts nor questionings, just these dusky glittering beauties
here, deep soft gleams of color, each with its suggestion of memories for
Roger, a procession of adventures reaching back into his life. He smiled
and lay in silence watching, until at last she bent over him, kissed him
softly, breathed a good-night and went out