and then a shuffle of feet. The door opened and
Professor Marshall appeared, his face very white under the thick
stubble of his gray, unshaven beard, his shoulders bowed, his head
hanging. Sylvia went to his side, took his hand firmly in hers, and
said quietly: "Father, you must eat something. You haven't taken a bit
of food in two days. And then you must lie down and rest," She poured
all of her new strength into these quietly issued commands, and
permitted herself no moment's doubt of his obedience to them. He
lifted his head, looked at her, and allowed her to lead him down the
stairs and again into the dining-room. Here he sat, quite spent,
staring before him until Sylvia returned from the kitchen with a plate
of cold meat and some bread. She sat down beside him, putting out
again consciously all her strength, and set the knife and fork in his
nerveless hands. In the gentle monologue with which she accompanied
his meal she did not mention her mother, or anything but slight,
casual matters about the house and garden. She found herself speaking
in a hushed tone, as though not to awake a sleeping person. Although
she sat quite quietly, her hands loosely folded on the table, her
heart was thrilling and burning to a high resolve. "Now it is my turn
to help my father."

After he had eaten a few mouthfuls and laid down the knife and fork,
she did not insist further, but rose to lead him to the couch in the
living-room. She dared not risk his own room, the bed on which her
mother had died.

"Now you must lie down and rest, Father," she said, loosening his
clothes and unlacing his shoes as though he had been a sick child.
He let her do what she would, and as she pushed him gently back, he
yielded and lay down at full length. Sylvia sat down beside him,
feeling her strength ebbing. Her father lay on his back, his eyes wide
open. On the ceiling above him a circular flicker of light danced and
shimmered, reflected from a glass of water on the table. His eyes
fastened upon this, at first unwinkingly, with a fixed intensity,
and later with dropped lids and half-upturned eyeballs. He was quite
quiet, and finally seemed asleep, although the line of white between
his eyelids made Sylvia shudder.

With the disappearance of the instant need for self-control and
firmness, she felt an immense fatigue. It had cost her dearly, this
victory, slight as it was. She drooped in her chair, exhausted and
undone. She looked down at the ash-gr