ible.

For a while fear had its way with her; the silent shock of it whitened
her face and left her with fair head bowed above her clasped hands.

Once or twice she opened the Bible and tried to understand, choosing what
she cared for most--reading of Lazarus, too. And she read about
miracles--those symbolic superfluities attributed to a life which in
itself was the greatest of all miracles.

And ever through the word of God glittered the memory of the pistol till
fear made her faint, and she rose, her hands against her breast, and
walked unsteadily out under the trees.

A bird or two had begun its sunset carol; the tree-trunks were stained
with the level crimson light. Far away her gaze rested on the blue hills.
Beyond them lay the accursed city.

The dull reiteration in her brain throbbed on unceasingly; she had given
him his pistol; he had lied to her; she had trusted him; he had lied; and
the accursed city lay beyond those hills--and he was there--with his
pistol; and he had lied to her--lied! lied! God help them both!

Across her clover fields the ruddy sunlight lay in broad undulating
bands, gilding blossom and curling trefoil. On every side of her the farm
stretched away over a rolling country set with woods; sweet came the
freshening air from the hills; she heard her collie barking at the
cattle along the pasture brook; a robin carolled loudly from the
orchard; orioles answered; gusts of twittering martins swept and soared
and circled the chimneys.

Erect, anguished hands clenched, she stood there, wide eyes seeing
nothing, and in her shrinking ears only the terrible reiteration of her
growing fears.

Then the level sun struck her body with a bar of light; all the world
around her smouldered rose and crimson. But after a little the shadows
fell through the fading light; and she turned her head, shivering, and
went back to the house--back to the room she had prepared for him, and
sat there watching the shapes of dusk invade it; the vague grey ghosts
that came crawling from corners and alcoves to gather at her feet and
wait and wait there with her for him who would never come into her life
again.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XXVII

"MISS LILY?"

She lifted her head from the sofa cushion in the dark, dazzled by the
sudden lamp-light.

"What is it?" she asked, averting her face.

"There's a gentleman says he'd like to see you----"

The girl turned, still dully confused; then, rigid,