ung themselves again against the wall and it seemed
to give, to sway) _was_ it Jimsy who had failed her? Wasn't it the
taint in his blood, the dead hands reaching up out of the grave, the
cruel certainty that had hemmed him in all his days,--the bitter
man-made law that he must follow in the unsteady footsteps of his
forbears?

It wasn't Jimsy! Not _himself_; not the real boy, not the real man. It
was the pitiful counterpart of him. The real Jimsy was there,
underneath, buried for the moment,--buried forever unless she stood by!
(The wall was swaying now, giving way, crumbling.) Her pride in him was
gone, perhaps, and something of her triumphant faith, but her loyalty
was there and her love was there, bruised and battered and breathless;
not the rosy, untried, laughing love of that far-away day in the sand
and sun; a grave love, scarred, weary, argus-eyed. (The wall was down
now, a heap of stones and mortar.) She went upstairs to Jimsy's room and
knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again, and after
an instant she tried to open it. It was locked, and she could not rouse
him, and a sense of bodily sickness overcame her for the moment.

Madeline King came out of her husband's room and hurried to her. "Ah, I
wouldn't, my dear," she said. "Wait until he--wait a little while." She
put her arm about her and pulled her gently away.

"I'll wait," said Honor in her rasping whisper. "I'll wait for him, no
matter how long it is."

The Englishwoman's eyes filled. "My dear!" she said. "Do you mind
sitting with Richard a few moments? I find it steadies me to move about
a bit."

"Of course I'll sit with him," said Honor, docilely, "but I'll always be
waiting for Jimsy." She sat down beside Richard King and took up the
fan.

"He's been better ever since that bit of water," said his wife,
thankfully. "And Juan will fetch us more! Good soul! If ever we come out
of this, Rich' must do something very splendid for him."

Carter went down into the _sala_. Honor had asked him to leave her, but
he found that he could not stay away from her; the remembrance of her
eyes when she looked at Jimsy was intolerable in the loneliness of his
own room. The big living room was empty but he supposed Honor would be
back presently, and he sat down in an easy chair and leaned his head
back and stared at the ceiling. He had arrived, very nearly, at the end
of his endurance. He knew it himself and he was husbanding his failing
strengt