spectator
bending down to see a struggle. Never before had she felt as if beyond
human life there was life compared with which human life was as death.
And now she told herself that she was mad, that this shock of human
passion coming suddenly upon her loneliness had harmed her brain, that
this cry for salvation addressed to one who looked upon herself as
destroyed had deafened reason within her.

His boat kept up with hers. She did not look at him. Casa Felice came in
sight. She pulled harder, like a mad creature. Her boat shot under the
archway into the darkness. Somehow--how, she did not know--she guided it
to the steps, left it, rushed up the staircase in the dark and came out
on to the piazza. There she stopped where the waterfall could cast its
spray upon her face. She stayed till her hair and cheeks and hands were
wet. Then she went to the balustrade. His boat was below and he was
looking up. She saw the tragic mask of his face down in the thin mist
that floated about the water, and now she imagined him in the pit,
gazing up and seeking those stars in which he still believed though he
could not see them.

"Go away," she said, not knowing why she said it or if she wished him to
go, only knowing that she had lost the faculty of self-control and might
say, do, be anything in that moment.

"I can't bear it."

She did not know what she meant she could not bear.

He made a strange answer. He said:

"If you will go into the house, open the windows and sing to me--the
last song I heard you sing--I'll go. But to-morrow I'll come and touch
my helping hand, and after to-morrow, and every day."

"Sing--?" she said vacantly. "To-night!"

"Go into the house. Open the window. I shall hear you."

He spoke almost sternly.

She crossed the piazza slowly. A candle was burning in the hall. She
took it up and went into the drawing-room, which was in black darkness.
There was a piano in it, close to a tall window which looked on to the
lake. She set the candle down on the piano, went to the window, unbarred
the shutters and threw the window open. Instantly she heard the sound
of oars as Carey sent his boat towards the water beneath the window. She
drew back, went again to the piano, sat down, opened it, put her hands
on the keys. How could she sing? But she must make him go away. While
he was there she could not think, could not grip herself, could not--She
struck a chord. The sound of music, the doing of a familiar actio