oul
that the Gate before which her feet had halted would open to them both.

Someone came up behind them, and stood for a few seconds looking down
upon them. He was aware of a presence, but he knelt on without
stirring--as one kneeling entranced in a sacred place. Then two hands he
knew grasped him firmly by the shoulders, raising him; he looked up
half-dazed into his brother's face.

"Come along, old chap!" Bernard whispered. "You mustn't faint in here."

The words roused him. The old sardonic smile showed for a moment about
his lips. He faint! But he had not slept for two nights. That would
account for that curious top-heavy feeling that possessed him. He
suffered Bernard to help him up,--good old Bernard who had watched over
him like a mother refusing flatly to remain behind, waiting upon him
hand and foot at every turn.

"You come into the next room!" he whispered. "You shall be called
immediately if she wakes and wants you. But you'll crumple up if you
don't rest."

There was truth in the words. Everard realized it as he went from the
room, leaning blindly upon the stout, supporting arm. His weariness
hung upon him like an overwhelming weight.

He submitted himself almost mechanically to his brother's ordering,
feeling as if he moved in a dream. As in a dream also he saw Peter at
the door move, noiseless as a shadow, to assist him on the other side.
And he tried to laugh off his weakness, but the laugh stuck in his
throat.

Then he found himself in a chair drinking a stiff mixture of brandy and
water, again at Bernard's behest, while Bernard stood over him, watching
with the utmost kindness in his blue eyes.

The spirit steadied him. He came to himself, sat up slowly, and motioned
Peter from the room. He was his own master again. He turned to his
brother with a smile.

"You're a friend in need, St. Bernard. That dose has done me good. Open
the window, old fellow, will you? Let's have some air!"

Bernard flung the window wide, and the warm wet air blew in laden with
the fragrance of the teeming earth. Everard turned his face to it,
drawing in great breaths. The dawn was breaking.

"She is better?" Bernard questioned, after a few moments.

"Yes. I believe she has turned the corner." Everard spoke without
turning. His eyes were fixed.

"Thank God!" said Bernard gently.

Everard's right hand made a curious movement. It was as if it closed
upon a weapon. "You can do that part," he said, and he spoke wi