n you are ready, you
put this over your mouth, and clasp the springs behind your head....
So.... it works quite easily. Then you turn this handle, round that way,
as far as it will go. And that is all."
Mabel nodded. She had regained her self-command, and understood plainly
enough, though even as she spoke once again her eyes strayed away to the
window.
"That is all," she said. "And what then?"
The nurse eyed her doubtfully for a moment.
"I understand perfectly," said Mabel. "And what then?"
"There is nothing more. Breathe naturally. You will feel sleepy almost
directly. Then you close your eyes, and that is all."
Mabel laid the tube on the table and stood up. She was completely
herself now.
"Give me a kiss, sister," she said.
The nurse nodded and smiled to her once more at the door. But Mabel
hardly noticed it; again she was looking towards the window.
"I shall come back in half-an-hour," said Sister Anne.
Then her eyes caught a square of white upon the centre table. "Ah! that
letter!" she said.
"Yes," said the girl absently. "Please take it."
The nurse took it up, glanced at the address, and again at Mabel. Still
she hesitated.
"In half-an-hour," she repeated. "There is no hurry at all. It doesn't
take five minutes.... Good-bye, my dear."
But Mabel was still looking out of the window, and made no answer.
III
Mabel stood perfectly still until she heard the locking of the door and
the withdrawal of the key. Then once more she went to the window and
clasped the sill.
From where she stood there was visible to her first the courtyard
beneath, with its lawn in the centre, and a couple of trees growing
there--all plain in the brilliant light that now streamed from her
window, and secondly, above the roofs, a tremendous pall of ruddy black.
It was the more terrible from the contrast. Earth, it seemed, was
capable of light; heaven had failed.
It appeared, too, that there was a curious stillness. The house was,
usually, quiet enough at this hour: the inhabitants of that place were
in no mood for bustle: but now it was more than quiet; it was deathly
still: it was such a hush as precedes the sudden crash of the sky's
artillery. But the moments went by, and there was no such crash: only
once again there sounded a solemn rolling, as of some great wain far
away; stupendously impressive, for with it to the girl's ears there
seemed mingled a murmur of innumerable voices, ghostly crying
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