ouse, and the tension of his nerves became
so acute that the least thing--a servant entering the room, or anyone
coming out to speak with him as he paced up and down the garden--caused
him an insupportable horror; had they come to summon him to see the
end? The frightful thing was the silence, the blank silence of the one
he loved best. If she had moaned or wept or complained, he could have
borne it better; but she seemed entirely withdrawn from him. Even when
a little strength returned, they feared for her reason. She seemed
unaware of where she was, of what had happened, of all about her. The
night was the worst time of all. Howard, utterly wearied out, would go
to bed, and sink into sleep, sleep so profound that it seemed like
descending into some deep and oblivious tide; then a current of misery
would mingle with his dreams, a sense of unutterable depression; and
then he would suddenly wake in the grip of fear, formless and bodiless
fear. The smallest sound in the house, the creaking of a door, a
footfall, would set his heart beating with fierce hammer strokes. He
would light his candles, wander restlessly about, gaze out from his
window into the blackness of the garden, where the trees outlined
themselves against the dark sky, pierced with stars; or he would try to
read, but wholly in vain. No thought, no imagination seemed to have any
meaning for him, in the presence of that raging dread. Had he, he
wondered, come in sight of the ultimate truth of life? The pain he
suffered seemed to him the strongest thing in the world, stronger than
love, stronger than death. The thick tides of the night swept past him
thus, till the light began to outline the window crannies; and then
there was a new day to face, with failing brain and shattered strength.

The only comfort he received was in the presence of his aunt. She alone
seemed strong, almost serene, till he wondered if she was not hard. She
did not encourage him to speak of his fears: she talked quietly about
ordinary things, not demanding an answer; she saw the doctors, whom
Howard could not bear to see, and told him their report. The fear
changed its character as the days went on; Maud would live, they
thought; but to what extent she would regain her strength they could
not say, while her mental powers seemed in abeyance.

Mr. Sandys often looked in, but he seemed at first helpless in Howard's
presence. Howard used to bestir himself to talk to him, with a
sickening se