t twenty-four hours had made her look as
though she herself had been through an illness, and the nervous strain
added to her own condition made her appear, Rendel felt as he looked at
her, quite alarmingly ill. She suffered herself to be persuaded to eat
something, then wandered wretchedly back to her father's room to remain
there for the rest of the day.

Rendel did not leave the house again. He sat downstairs alone, trying to
realise what this world was that he was contemplating, this landscape
painted in shades of black and grey. Was this the prospect flooded with
sunshine that he had looked upon that very morning? The afternoon went
on: the streets of London were full of a gay and hurrying crowd. Was it
Rendel's imagination, the tense state of his nerves, that made him feel
in the very air as it streamed in at his window the electric disturbance
that was agitating the destinies of the country? Everyone looked as they
passed as though something had happened; men were talking eagerly and
intently. The afternoon papers were being hawked in the streets. One of
them actually had the map, all had the news, given with the same
comments of amazement, and, on the part of the Imperialists, of
admiration at the feat that had been so cleverly performed. So the day
wore on, the long summer's day, till all London had grasped what had
happened--while the man through whom London knew was sitting alone, an
outcast, with Grief and Anxiety hovering by him.

These two same dread companions, seen under another aspect, were with
Rachel as she sat through the afternoon hours in her father's darkened
room, listening to his breathing, with all her senses on the alert for
any sound, for any movement.

Sir William moved and opened his eyes; then, looking at Rachel, who was
anxiously bending over him, he rapidly poured out a succession of words
and phrases of which only a word here and there was intelligible.
"Frank," he said once or twice, then "Pateley," but Rachel had not the
clue that would have told her what the words meant. She tried in vain to
quiet him: he was not conscious of her presence. Then suddenly his
voice subsided to a whisper, and a strange look came over his face. An
uncontrollable terror seized upon Rachel. She ran out on to the stairs;
and as, unsteady, quivering, she rushed down, meaning to call her
husband, she caught her foot on the loose stair-rod and fell forward,
striking her head with violence as she reached the b