m toward that future--

A future? What had he to do with a future? Was he rushing headlong
thus soon into another pit as bad as that from which he had just
escaped? The Future was Now--not one minute, not one second beyond.
He was here before an open fire, with this girl in the background, with
beautiful rugs and pictures about him, with a great seething,
struggling, future-chained horde outside, and the eternal stars
overhead. In the midst of it he was free, and this was enough for him
to know. Now! Now! The girl was now and her eyes were now and the
flush of her velvet cheek was now!

CHAPTER VI

_The Shadow on the Portraits_

He was roused by the sound of her voice and the single stroke of the
clock back of her. It was one, and he could have sworn that they had
been sitting here less than fifteen minutes.

"I must go to Ben now," she said. "It is time to give him more
medicine."

"I will go with you."

"No," she decided, "I think I had better go alone. A stranger might
frighten him."

He hesitated with an uneasy sense of foreboding, but she moved past him
determinedly and went up the stairs, leaving him alone with the
haunting picture upon the wall. He moved nearer to study it more in
detail. He caught a trace of resemblance to the boy but none to the
girl. The features were more rugged than those of young Arsdale, and
the forehead was broader and higher, but the mouth was the same--thin,
tense, and yet with no strength of jaw behind it. The cheek bones were
rather high and the eyes set deep but over-close together. It was a
face, thought Donaldson, of which great things might be expected, but
upon which nothing could be depended. The man would move eratically
but brilliantly, like those aquatic fireworks which dart in burning
angles along the face of the water--scarlet serpents shooting to the
right, the left, in their gorgeous irresponsible course towards the
dark.

As he stood there Donaldson thought he heard the soft tread of feet in
the hall and the click of the outside door as it was opened. He
listened intently, but he heard nothing further. He crossed the
library and looked out. The door was ajar. He flung it open and
peered down the driveway; there was nothing to be seen but the dark
mass of hedge bounding the yard. He went to the foot of the stairs and
listened; there was no sound above.

The wind may have blown open the door if it had been unlatched, and the
imagin