There are gulfs of night more deep;
But little they care, whom the waves once drown,
How far from the light they sleep.

And dark though Sorrow's fearful billows be,
They have caverns darker still.
O God! that Sorrow's waves were like the sea,
Whose topmost waters kill.
-Anonymous.

It was nearly noon when Harry awoke. The awakening came slowly and with
pain. In all his previous experiences he had had no hint even of such
mental and bodily exhaustion as now oppressed him. Every muscle and
tendon was aching a bitter complaint against the strain it had been
subjected to the day before. Dull, pulseless pain smoldered in some; in
others it was the keen throb of the toothache. Continued lying in one
position was unendurable; changing it, a thrill of anguish; and the new
posture as intolerable as the first. His brain galled and twinged as did
his body. To think was as acute pain as to use his sinews. Yet he could
not help thinking any more than he could help turning in the bed, though
to turn was torture.

Every organ of thought was bruised and sore. The fearful events of the
day before would continue to thrust themselves upon his mind. To put
them out required painful effort; to recall and comprehend them was even
worse. Reflecting upon them now, with unstrung nerves, made them seem a
hundred-fold more terrible than when they were the spontaneous offspring
of hot blood. With the reflection came the thoughts that this was but
a prelude--an introduction--to an infinitely horrible saturnalia of
violence and blood, through which he was to be hurried until released by
his own destruction. This became a nightmare that threatened to stagnate
the blood in his veins. He gasped, turned his back to the wall with an
effort that thrilled him with pain, and opened his eyes.

Naught that he saw reminded him of the preceding day. Sunny peace and
contentment reigned. The door stood wide open, and as it faced the
south, the noonday sun pushed in--clear to the opposite wall--a broad
band of mellow light, vividly telling of the glory he was shedding
where roof nor shade checked his genial glow. On the smooth, hard, ashen
floor, in the center of this bright zone, sat a matronly cat, giving
with tongue and paw dainty finishing touches to her morning toilet, and
watching with maternal pride a kittenish game of hide-and-seek on the
front step. Through the open do