. The
river--"Away, my rolling river!"--the river--and the happiest hours of
all her life! If he were anywhere, she would find him there, where he
had sung, and lain with his head on her breast, and swum and splashed
about her; where she had dreamed, and seen beauty, and loved him so! She
reached the bank. Cold and grey and silent, swifter than yesterday, the
stream was flowing by, its dim far shore brightening slowly in the first
break of dawn. And Gyp stood motionless, drawing her breath in gasps
after her long run; her knees trembled; gave way. She sat down on the
wet grass, clasping her arms round her drawn-up legs, rocking herself to
and fro, and her loosened hair fell over her face. The blood beat in her
ears; her heart felt suffocated; all her body seemed on fire, yet numb.
She sat, moving her head up and down--as the head of one moves that
is gasping her last--waiting for breath--breath and strength to let go
life, to slip down into the grey water. And that queer apartness from
self, which is the property of fever, came on her, so that she seemed
to see herself sitting there, waiting, and thought: 'I shall see myself
dead, floating among the reeds. I shall see the birds wondering above
me!' And, suddenly, she broke into a storm of dry sobbing, and all
things vanished from her, save just the rocking of her body, the gasping
of her breath, and the sound of it in her ears. Her boy--her boy--and
his poor hair! "Away, my rolling river!" Swaying over, she lay face
down, clasping at the wet grass and the earth.

The sun rose, laid a pale bright streak along the water, and hid himself
again. A robin twittered in the willows; a leaf fell on her bare ankle.

Winton, who had been hunting on Saturday, had returned to town on Sunday
by the evening tram, and gone straight to his club for some supper.
There falling asleep over his cigar, he had to be awakened when they
desired to close the club for the night. It was past two when he reached
Bury Street and found a telegram.

"Something dreadful happened to Mr. Summerhay. Come quick.--BETTY."

Never had he so cursed the loss of his hand as during the time that
followed, when Markey had to dress, help his master, pack bags, and
fetch a taxi equipped for so long a journey. At half-past three they
started. The whole way down, Winton, wrapped in his fur coat, sat a
little forward on his seat, ready to put his head through the window
and direct the driver. It was a wild nig