and the echo lingered
pulsing on the silence. Slowly it died away to a whisper and then he
heard distant shouts and footsteps echoing hollow. Men were running
toward him down the brick sidewalk, their voices sounding nearer. At
the corner they turned and went, westward, the sound of them growing
fainter and fainter. He looked back, and at the gate he could see a
shadow standing there waiting. There was a faint nimbus about the head
and the face, turned toward him, was in the darkness.

He paused a moment in indecision and then turned and walked rapidly
down the street westward, toward the camp.

CHAPTER XIX

Mary Louise walked back to the house. At the side porch she paused and
looked behind her. High overhead sailed the moon, a day or two past
the first half. There was a tremulous movement in the leaves of the
maples along the sidewalk, producing an indistinct, vibratory shimmer
and shadow. By contrast the patches of darkness were jet black; the
overhanging portico of the house was as yawning as a cavern. She
listened, stood, her head bent slightly forward, listening. Not a
sound could be heard. The sharp, crisp clack of Joe's footsteps had
been swallowed up by the distance. She could hear the sound of her own
breathing. An uneasiness came gradually upon her, a vague sort of
dread of being left alone, entirely alone. How aloof he had seemed;
how aloof everything seemed, and unreal! Those sinister trees waving
there without a breath of wind; the lowering shadows of the
summerhouse and the barn; that greasy moonlight that came slipping up
to the very edge of the porch and lay there fearful and cold--were
they all remembering her scorn and coming back to mock her
loneliness?

Softly she opened the door and went inside. Something scurried off
into a corner and she fancied it turned about there and watched her in
the darkness. The room seemed hot and close and there was a rhythmic
rise and fall like the rising and falling of some vast invisible
bosom, oppressed. She tiptoed over to the far door and stood
listening. Not a sound could she hear. Old Landy was most probably
asleep in his bed in the room up over the stable. She balanced on her
feet and stood waiting, in indecision. She could not go back, so she
opened the door softly and peered in.

A glaring white patch caught her eye. The moonlight through the window
lay cold and bright upon the counterpane. Just above the patch was a
jumble of shadows, from whi