was perceptibly darker,
and a thin keen shaft of recollection struck across his mind--the
recollection of what he was, and of how he came to be there, his reasons
for coming and of that dark indefinable presence which like a raven had
begun to build its dwelling in his mind. He sat on, his eyes restlessly
wandering, his face leaning on his hands; and in a while the door opened
and Herbert returned, carrying an old crimson and green teapot and a
dish of hot cakes.

'They're all out,' he said; 'sister, Sallie, and boy; but these were in
the oven, so we won't wait. I hope you haven't been very much bored.'

Lawford dropped his hands from his face and smiled. 'I have been looking
at the water,' he said.

'My sister's favorite occupation; she sits for hours and hours, with not
even a book for an apology, staring down into the black old roaring pot.
It has a sort of hypnotic effect after a time. And you'd be surprised
how quickly one gets used to the noise. To me it's even less distracting
than sheer silence. You don't know, after all, what on earth sheer
silence means--even at Widderstone. But one can just realize a
water-nymph. They chatter; but, thank Heaven, it's not articulate.' He
handed Lawford a cup with a certain niceness and self-consciousness,
lifting his eyebrows slightly as he turned.

Lawford found himself listening out of a peculiar stillness of mind
to the voice of this suave and rather inscrutable acquaintance. 'The
curious thing is, do you know,' he began rather nervously, 'that though
I must have passed your gate at least twice in the last few months, I
have never noticed it before, never even caught the sound of the water.'

'No, that's the best of it; nobody ever does. We are just buried alive.
We have lived here for years, and scarcely know a soul--not even our
own, perhaps. Why on earth should one? Acquaintances, after all, are
little else than a bad habit.'

'But then, what about me?' said Lawford.

'But that's just it,' said Herbert. 'I said ACQUAINTANCES; that's just
exactly what I'm going to prove--what very old friends we are. You've no
idea! It really is rather queer.' He took up his cup and sauntered over
to the window.

Lawford eyed him vacantly for a moment, and, following rather his
own curious thoughts than seeking any light on this somewhat vague
explanation, again broke the silence. 'It's odd, I suppose, but this
house affects me much in the same way as Widderstone does. I'm not