in a manner which gave him a singular appearance.
His bearing was lacking in self-possession; each of his remarks was
followed by a short laugh, deprecatory, apologetic. It seemed impossible
to him to remain in a state of bodily repose, even with a cup of tea in
his hand he paced the room. Constantly he consulted his watch--not that
he had any special concern with the hour, but from a mere habit of
nervousness.

He welcomed the visitor with warmth, at the same time obviously
suppressing a smile of other than merely polite significance: then he
began at once to speak of electioneering matters, and did so, pacing the
carpet, for the next half hour. Wilfrid listened with such show of
interest as he could command; his thoughts were elsewhere, and weariness
was beginning to oppress him.

Shortly after dinner fatigue passed the point at which it could be
struggled against. Long waking, the harassment of fears at length
consoled, and the exhaustion consequent upon his journey, besieged him
with invincible drowsiness. Mrs. Baxendale, observing it, begged him to
discard ceremony and go to rest. Gladly he suffered himself to be led to
his room; once there, he could not note the objects about him; the very
effort of taking off his clothes was almost beyond his strength. Sleep
was binding his brows with oblivion, and relaxing every joint. His
dearest concerns were nothing to him; with a wave of the hand he would
have resigned an eternity of love; cry to him blood-chilling horrors,
and his eyelids would make no sign. The feather-softness moulded itself
to his limbs; the pillows pressed a yielding coolness to his cheek; his
senses failed amid faint fresh odours. Blessed state! How enviable above
all waking joys the impotence which makes us lords of darkness, the
silence which suffers not to reach our ears so much as an echo of the
farce of life.

CHAPTER XV

MRS. BAXENDALE'S QUESTS

A servant went to Banbrigg each morning for tidings; Emily, so the
report said, moved steadily towards recovery. On the second day after
Wilfrid's arrival Mrs. Baxendale took him with her in the brougham, and
let him wait for her whilst she made a call upon Mrs. Hood; Wilfrid saw
an upper window of which the blind was down against the sun, and would
gladly have lingered within sight of it. Beatrice had excused herself
from accompanying the two.

'I believe,' Mrs. Baxendale said on the way, 'she has gone to some
special service at St. Luke