Nobody in the house?"

"Only Marie."

Anderson reflected. He was much nearer his own home than hers, and
there was a short-cut across the field; they would not need to strike
the road at all. He rose, with a sudden resolution, and raised the
weeping girl to her feet.

"Come," said he, in the same authoritative voice, and Charlotte
stumbled blindly along, his arm still around her. She had an
under-consciousness that she was ashamed of herself for showing so
little bravery, that she wondered what this man would think of her,
but her self-control was gone, because of the too tense strain which
had been put upon it. It was like a spring too tightly compressed,
suddenly released; the vibrations of her nerves seemed endless. She
tried to hush her sobs as she was hurried along, and succeeded in
some measure, but she was still utterly incapable of her usual mental
balance. Once she started, and clutched Anderson's arm with a gasp of
fear.

"Look, look!" she whispered.

"What is it?" he asked, soothingly.

"The man is there. See him?"

"There is nothing there, child," he said, and hurried her over the
place where her distorted vision had seen again the object of her
terror, in his twisted sleep in the grass.

Anderson began to be seriously alarmed about the girl. He did not
know what consequences might come from such a severe mental strain
upon such a nervous temperament. He hurried as fast as he dared,
almost carrying her at times, and finally they emerged upon the
garden at the right of his own house. The flowers were thinning out
fast, but the place was still gay with marigolds and other late
blossoms. As he passed the kitchen door he was aware of the maid's
gaping face of stupid surprise, and he called out curtly to her: "Is
my mother in the house?"

"Yes, sir. She's in the sitting-room," replied the maid, with round
eyes of curiosity upon the pair. Charlotte was making a desperate
effort to walk by herself, to recover herself, but Anderson was still
almost carrying her bodily. She wondered dimly at the strange
trembling of her limbs, at the way the bright orange and red of the
marigolds and nasturtiums swam before her eyes, and once again she
saw quite distinctly the evil face of the man peer out at her from
among them; but this time she said nothing, for her subconsciousness
of delusion was growing stronger.

Anderson went around to the front of the house, and his mother's
wondering face gazed from a window,