re, leaning both elbows on the
library table, head bent expectantly as he listened, or lifted when he,
in turn, spoke aloud. And sometimes he spoke gravely, argumentatively,
sometimes almost flippantly, and once or twice his laugh rang out
through the empty room.

In the forest a heavy wind had risen; somewhere outside a door or
shutter banged persistently. He did not hear it, but Shiela, sleepless
in her room above, laid down Hamil's book; then, thinking it might be
the outer door left carelessly unlocked, descended the stairs with
lighted candle. Passing the library and hearing voices she halted,
astonished to see her husband there alone; and as she stood, perplexed
and disturbed, he spoke as though answering a question. But there was no
one there who could have asked it; the room was empty save for that
solitary figure. Something in his voice terrified her--in the uncanny
monologue which meant nothing to her--in his curiously altered laugh--in
his intent listening attitude. It was not the first time she had seen
him this way.

"Louis!" she exclaimed; "what are you doing?"

He turned dreamily toward her, rose as in a trance.

"Oh, is it you?... Come in here."

"I cannot; I am tired."

"So am I, Shiela--tired to death. What time is it?"

"After ten, I think--if that clock is right."

She entered, reluctant, uncertain, peering up at the clock; then:

"I thought the front door had been left open and came down to lock it.
What are you doing here at this hour? I--I thought I heard you talking."

"I was talking to my father."

"What!" she said, startled.

"Pretending to," he added wearily; "sit down."

"Do you wish me--"

"Yes; sit down."

"I--" she looked fearfully at him, hesitated, and slowly seated herself
on the arm of a lounge. "W-what is it you--want, Louis?" she faltered,
every nerve on edge.

"Nothing much; a kindly word or two."

"What do you mean? Have I ever been unkind? I--I am too unhappy to be
unkind to anybody." Suddenly her eyes filled.

"Don't do that," he said; "you are always civil to me--never unkind. By
the way, my relatives leave to-morrow. That will comfort you, won't it?"

She said nothing.

He leaned heavily on the table, dark face framed in both hands:

"Shiela, when a man is really tired, don't you think it reasonable for
him to take a rest--and give others one?"

"I don't understand."

"A rather protracted rest is good for tired people, isn't it?"

"Yes, if--"