happening now has happened
before--somehow--somewhere--and where?--when?--the questions keep
ringing in your brain and racking your heart--but there is no
answer--you are shouting into a voiceless cavern."

His face was as pale as ashes, his eyes were fixed, and his gaze was far
away. Greta grew afraid of the horror she had awakened.

"Don't think too seriously about it," she said. "Besides, I may have
been mistaken. In fact, Hugh said--"

"Well, what did he say?"

"He made me ashamed. He said I had imagined I saw you and screamed, and
so frightened your mother."

"There are men in the world who would see the Lord of Hosts come from
the heavens in glory and say it was only a water-spout."

"But, as you said yourself, it was in the night, and very dark. I had
nothing but the feeble oil-lamp to see by. Don't look like that, Paul."

The girl lifted a nervous hand and covered his eyes, and laughed a
little, hollow laugh.

Paul shook himself free of his stupor.

"Good-night, Greta," he said, tenderly, and walked to the door. Then the
vacant look returned.

"The answer is somewhere--somewhere," he said, faintly. He shook himself
again, and shouted, in his lusty tones:

"Good-night, all--good-night, good-night!"

The next instant he was gone.

Out in the road, he began to run; but it was not from exertion alone
that his breath came and went in gusts. Before he reached the village
his nameless sentiment of dread of the unknown had given way to anxiety
for his mother. What was this strange illness that had come upon her in
his absence? Her angel-face had been his beacon in darkness. She had
lifted his soul from the dust. Tortured by the world and the world's
law, yet Heaven's peace had settled on her. Let the world say what it
would, into her heart the world had not entered.

He hurried on. What a crazy fool he had been to let Natt go off with the
trap! Why had not that coxcomb told him what had occurred? He would
break every bone in the blockhead's skin.

How long the road was, to be sure! A hundred fears suggested themselves
on the way. Would his mother be worse? Would she be still conscious?
Why, in God's name, had he ever gone away?

He came by the Flying Horse, and there, tied to the blue post, stood the
horse and trap. Natt was inside. There he was, the villain, in front of
the fire, laughing boisterously, a glass of hot liquor in his hand.

Paul jumped into the trap and drove away.

It was hardly in