quickly to the
bed and looked and then ran into the passage and called loudly, "Effie!
Effie!"

Frightening, terrible, agonising. He was kneeling on one side of the
bed, Effie at the other. The extreme moment was come to her that lay
between them. She was moaning. He bowed his face into his hands. The
sound of her moaning was terrible to him. That inhabitant of this her
body had done its preparations and now stood at the door in the
darkness, very frightened. It wanted to go back. It had been very
accustomed to being here. It could not go back. It did not want to shut
the door. The door was shutting. It stood and shrank and whimpered
there.

Oh, terrible! Beyond endurance, agonising. It was old Mrs. Perch that
stood there whimpering, shrinking, upon the threshold of that huge
abyss, wide as space, dark as night. It was no spirit. It was just that
very feeble Mrs. Perch with her fumbling hands and her moving lips. Look
here, Young Perch would never allow her even to cross a road without
him! How in pity was she to take this frightful step? He twisted up all
his emotions into an appeal of tremendous intensity. "Young Perch! Come
_here_! Your mother! Young Perch, come _here_!"

Telling it, once, to Nona, he said, "I don't know what happened. They
talk about self-hypnotism. Perhaps it was that. I know I made a most
frightful effort saying 'Young Perch.' I had to. I could see her--that
poor terrified thing. Something had to be done. Some one had to go to
her. I said it like in a nightmare, bursting to get out of it, 'Young
Perch. Come _here_.' Anyway, there it is, Nona. I heard them. It was
imagination, of course. But I heard them."

He heard, "Now then, Mother! Don't be frightened. Here I am, Mother.
Come on, Mother. One step, Mother. Only one. I can't reach you. You must
take just one step. Look, Mother, here's my hand. Can't you _see_ my
hand?"

"It's so dark, Freddie."

"It's not, Mother. It's only dark where you are. It's light here. Don't
cry, Mother. Don't be frightened. It's all right. It's quite all right."

That tall and pale young man, with his face like one of the old
Huguenots! That very frail old woman with her fumbling hands and moving
lips!

"It's so cold."

"Now, Mother, I tell you it isn't. Do just trust me. Do just come."

"I daren't, Freddie. I can't, Freddie. I can't. I can't."

"You must. Mother, you must. Look, look, here I am. It's I, Freddie.
Don't cry, Mother. Just trust yourself enti