I have forgotten where I was, and that we have
to make it a rule never to re-read, for fear I should tear it up. I
believe I was trying to find a new roundabout way of saying how much
more to me you were than anything in Heaven or Earth.'" The dictation
paused.

"Go on," said the amanuensis. "After 'Heaven and Earth'?" She paused
with an expectant pen, her eyes on the paper. Then she looked up, to see
that her brother's face was in his hands, dropped down on the
side-cushion of the sofa. She waited for him to speak, knowing he would
only think she did not see him. But she had to wait overlong for the
lasting powers of this excuse; so she let it lapse, and went to sit
beside him, and coaxed his hands from his face, kissing away something
very like a tear. "But why now, darling?" said she. "You know what I
mean. What was it in the letter?"

"Why--I was going to say," replied Adrian, recovering himself, "I was
going on to 'the thing that makes day of my darkness' or something of
that sort--some poetical game, you know--and then I thought what a many
things I could write if I could write them myself, and shut them in the
envelope for Gwen alone, that I can't say now, though the dearest sister
ever man had yet writes them for me. I _can_ say to _her_, darling, that
if I were offered my eyesight back, by some irritating fairy
godmother--that kind of thing--in exchange for the Gwen that is mine, I
would not accept her boon upon the terms. I should, on the contrary,
wish I were the Lernaean Hydra, that I might give the balance of seven
pairs of eyes rather than ..."

"Rather than lose Gwen." Irene spoke, because he had hesitated.

"Exactly. But I got stuck a moment by the reflection that Gwen's
sentiments might not have remained altogether unchanged, in that case.
In fact, she might have run away, at Arthur's Bridge. It is an obscure
and difficult subject, and the supply of parallel cases is not all one
could wish."

"I don't see why we shouldn't put all or any of that in the letter." For
Irene always favoured her brother's incurable whimsicality as a resource
against the powers of Erebus and dark Night, and humoured any approach
to extravagance, to disperse the cloud that had gathered. This one
pleased him.

"How shall we put it?... somehow like this.... By-the-by, do you know
how to spell Lernaean?..." He paused abruptly, and seemed to listen.
"Sh--sh a minute! What's that outside? I thought I heard somebody
coming."