ade no noise, she
stole along looking at door after door. Through a long Gothic window,
uncurtained, the mild moonlight was coming. She stopped just where that
moonlight fell, and tapped. There came no answer. She opened the door a
little way, and said:

"Are you asleep, Eusty?"

There still came no answer, and she went in.

The curtains were drawn, but a chink of moonlight peering through fell
on the bed. This was empty. Barbara stood uncertain, listening. In the
heart of that darkness there seemed to be, not sound, but, as it were,
the muffled soul of sound, a sort of strange vibration, like that of a
flame noiselessly licking the air. She put her hand to her heart, which
beat as though it would leap through the thin silk covering. From what
corner of the room was that mute tremor coming? Stealing to the window,
she parted the curtains, and stared back into the shadows. There, on
the far side, lying on the floor with his arms pressed tightly round
his head and his face to the wall, was Miltoun. Barbara let fall the
curtains, and stood breathless, with such a queer sensation in her
breast as she had never felt; a sense of something outraged-of scarred
pride. It was gone at once, in a rush of pity. She stepped forward
quickly in the darkness, was visited by fear, and stopped. He had seemed
absolutely himself all the evening. A little more talkative, perhaps, a
little more caustic than usual. And now to find him like this! There was
no great share of reverence in Barbara, but what little she possessed
had always been kept for her eldest brother. He had impressed her,
from a child, with his aloofness, and she had been proud of kissing him
because he never seemed to let anybody else do so. Those caresses, no
doubt, had the savour of conquest; his face had been the undiscovered
land for her lips. She loved him as one loves that which ministers to
one's pride; had for him, too, a touch of motherly protection, as for
a doll that does not get on too well with the other dolls; and withal a
little unaccustomed awe.

Dared she now plunge in on this private agony? Could she have borne that
anyone should see herself thus prostrate? He had not heard her, and she
tried to regain the door. But a board creaked; she heard him move, and
flinging away her fears, said: "It's me! Babs!" and dropped on her knees
beside him. If it had not been so pitch dark she could never have done
that. She tried at once to take his head into her arms,