en
dreaming of Martin, dreaming of him physically, so that it was his body
against hers, his hand hot and dry in hers cool and soft, his cheek
rough and strong against hers smooth and pale. There had been no
sentimentality or weakness in her dream. They had been confident and
sure and defiant together, and it had been real life for her, so real
that this dream life in which now she moved down the shadowy passage
was about her as green water is about one when one swims under waves.

It was only slowly, as the cold air of the house at night cleared her
eyes and her throat and her breast, that she came to the world
consciousness again and surrendered her lover back to the shades and
felt a sudden frightened fear lest, after all, she should never really
know that ecstasy of which she had just been dreaming.

Nevertheless it was still with a great consciousness of Martin that she
entered her aunt's bedroom. Before she entered she turned round for a
moment to Martha.

"What must I do?" she asked. "What will she want me to do?"

"It's only," said Martha, "if the pains come on very bad, to give her
some drops. They're in a little green bottle by her bed. Five drops ...
yes, miss, five drops in a little green bottle. Only if the pains is
very bad. She's brave--wonderful. I'd 'ave sat up till morning willing,
and so of course would Miss Elizabeth. But she seemed to want you,
miss."

They were like two conspirators whispering there in the dark. The room
within was so still. Maggie very softly pushed back the door and
entered. She walked a few steps inside the room and hesitated. There
was no sound in the room at all, utter stillness so that Maggie could
hear her own breathing as though it were some one else at her side
warning her. Then slowly things emerged, the long white bed first,
afterwards a shaded lamp beside it, a little table with bottles, a
chair--beyond the circle of lighted shadow there were shapes, near the
window a high glass, a dark shade that was the dressing-table, and
faint grey squares where the windows hung.

In the room was a strange scent half wine, half medicine, and beyond
that the plain tang of apples partially eaten, a little smell of oil
too from the lamp--very faintly the figure of the Christ above the bed
was visible. Maggie moved forward to the bed, then stopped again. She
did not know what to do; she could see a dark shadow on the pillow that
must she knew be her aunt's hair, and yet she did n