hite to the lips, trembling like a leaf, Iris shook herself free and
ran up to her room.

Lynn drew a long, shuddering breath. "God!" he whispered, clenching his
hands tightly. "God!"

XVI

Afraid of Life

She kept her word. To Mrs. Irving she merely said that she had already
trespassed too long upon their hospitality, and that she thought it best
to go away. She had talked with Herr Kaufmann, and he had advised her to
go to the city and have her voice trained. Yes, she would write, and
would always think of them kindly.

Lynn, who had passed the first sleepless night of his life, went to the
train with her, but few words were spoken. Iris was cool, dignified, and
cruelly formal. An immeasurable distance lay between them, and one, at
least, made no effort to lessen it.

They had only a few minutes to wait, and, just as the train came in
sight, Lynn bent over her. "Iris," he said, unsteadily, "if you ever
want me, will you promise me that you will let me know?"

"Yes," she replied, with an incredulous laugh, "if I ever want you, I
will let you know."

"I will go to you," said Lynn, struggling for his self-control, "from
the very end of the world. Just send me the one word: 'Come.' And let me
thank you now for all the happiness you have given me, and for the
memory of you, which I shall have in my heart for always."

"You are quite welcome," she returned, frigidly. "You--" but the roar of
the train mercifully drowned her words.

The sun still shone, the birds did not cease their singing. Outwardly,
the world was just as fair, even though Iris had gone. Lynn walked away
blindly, no longer dull, but keenly alive to his hurt.

From the crucible of Eternity, Time, the magician, draws the days. Some
are wholly made of beauty; of wide sunlit reaches and cool silences.
Some of dreams and twilight, with roses breathing fragrance through the
dusk. Some of darkness, wild and terrible, lighted only by a single
star. Others still of riving lightnings and vast, reverberating
thunders, while the heart, swelled to bursting, breaks on the reef of
Pain.

It seemed as though Lynn's heart were rising in an effort to escape. "I
must keep it down," he thought. It was like an imprisoned bird, cut,
bruised, and bleeding, beating against the walls of flesh. And yet,
there was a hand upon it, and the iron fingers clutched unmercifully.

Iris had gone, and the dream was at an end. Iris had gone, flouting him
to the last, c