ddess at whose shrine he was a worshipper. He
desired the full fierce fury of the tempest, the blinding flash of the
lightning, the heavy hiss of the rain, the rush of the winds bursting on
him from the four horizons; he desired the naked face of his goddess.

And she came--or he acquired the power to see her, whichever it might
be. She came suddenly, unexpectedly, completely, as a goddess should.

It was on Christmas Eve, at night, the anniversary of Stella's death
four years before. Morris and his wife were alone at the Abbey, as the
Colonel had gone for a fortnight or so to Beaulieu, just to keep the
house aired, as he explained. Also Lady Rawlins was there with her
husband, the evil-tempered man who by a single stroke of sickness had
been converted into a babbling imbecile, harmless as a babe, and amused
for the most part with such toys as are given to babes. She, so Morris
understood, had intimated that Sir Jonah was failing, really failing
quickly, and that in her friendlessness at a foreign place, especially
at Christmas time, she would be thankful to have the comfort of an old
friend's presence. This the old friend, who, having been back from town
for a whole month, was getting rather bored with Monksland and the
sick baby, determined to vouchsafe, explaining that he knew that young
married people liked to be left to each other now and again, especially
when they were worried with domestic troubles. Lady Rawlins was foolish
and fat, but, as the Colonel remembered, she was fond. Where, indeed,
could another woman be found who would endure so much scientific
discipline and yet be thankful? Also, within a few weeks, after the
expected demise of Jonah, she would be wondrous wealthy--that he knew.
Therefore it seemed that the matter was worth consideration--and a
journey to Beaulieu.

So the Colonel went, and Morris, more and more possessed by his
monomania, was glad that he had gone. His absence gave him greater
opportunities of loneliness; it was now no longer necessary that he
should sit at night smoking with his father, or, rather, watching him
smoke at the expense of so many precious hours when he should be up and
doing.

Morris and Mary dined tete-a-tete that evening, but almost immediately
after dinner she had gone to the nurseries. The baby was now threatened
with convulsions, and a trained nurse had been installed. But, as Mary
did not in the least trust the nurse, who, according to her account,
was