nd of it which was nearest to the window, Mrs. Zant was pacing
to and fro across the breadth of the room. At the opposite end of the
table, John Zant was seated. Taken completely by surprise, he showed
himself in his true character. He started to his feet, and protested
with an oath against the intrusion which had been committed on him.

Heedless of his action and his language, Mr. Rayburn could look at
nothing, could think of nothing, but Mrs. Zant. She was still walking
slowly to and fro, unconscious of the words of sympathy which he
addressed to her, insensible even as it seemed to the presence of other
persons in the room.

John Zant's voice broke the silence. His temper was under control
again: he had his reasons for still remaining on friendly terms with Mr.
Rayburn.

"I am sorry I forgot myself just now," he said.

Mr. Rayburn's interest was concentrated on Mrs. Zant; he took no notice
of the apology.

"When did this happen?" he asked.

"About a quarter of an hour ago. I was fortunately at home. Without
speaking to me, without noticing me, she walked upstairs like a person
in a dream."

Mr. Rayburn suddenly pointed to Mrs. Zant.

"Look at her!" he said. "There's a change!"

All restlessness in her movements had come to an end. She was standing
at the further end of the table, which was nearest to the window, in
the full flow of sunlight pouring at that moment over her face. Her eyes
looked out straight before her--void of all expression. Her lips were
a little parted: her head drooped slightly toward her shoulder, in
an attitude which suggested listening for something or waiting for
something. In the warm brilliant light, she stood before the two men,
a living creature self-isolated in a stillness like the stillness of
death.

John Zant was ready with the expression of his opinion.

"A nervous seizure," he said. "Something resembling catalepsy, as you
see."

"Have you sent for a doctor?"

"A doctor is not wanted."

"I beg your pardon. It seems to me that medical help is absolutely
necessary."

"Be so good as to remember," Mr. John Zant answered, "that the decision
rests with me, as the lady's relative. I am sensible of the honor
which your visit confers on me. But the time has been unhappily chosen.
Forgive me if I suggest that you will do well to retire."

Mr. Rayburn had not forgotten the housekeeper's advice, or the promise
which she had exacted from him. But the expression in John Zant's