rew higher before them,
more candid, more immaculate, but its beauty did not soften his
inexorable aspect. When they could see the pale wedges which the moon
drove in between the columns he paused and stared, and drew from his
pocket something dark which lay easily in his hand. "What's that? What's
that?" she asked in panic. "Only an electric torch," he muttered,
without surprise at her suspicion, and went with springing, silent,
detective gait up the three steps of the temple.

She remained without, drooping. Would he find his mother there? She
hoped so, for then they could all go home and leave this place, which
she felt despised her. The tall trees of the forest, lifting their bare
branches like antlers against the stars, seemed to be holding their
heads high in contempt of her defeat. For so to be forgotten was defeat.

No sounds came from the temple, and she timidly went up the steps and
passed into the interior, which was cut by the colonnade into narrow
chambers of shadows and broader chambers of light. At first she could
not see him anywhere, and cried in alarm: "Richard!"

"I'm here," he answered. He was standing beside her, leaning against a
pillar, but put out no hand to soothe her fear.

"Have you not found her?" she quavered.

He let the yellow circle of the electric torch travel over the cracked
stucco-wall that faced them, the paintless door at its left extremity,
the drift of dead leaves on the stone floor.

"What does that door open on to?" asked Ellen, forgetting the reason for
their search in the queerness of the place.

"A staircase up to the room above."

"What a lovely place," she cried joyfully, trying to remind him of the
existence of happiness, "to play in in the summer! Could one sleep up
there, do you think?"

He switched off the light. "I daresay," he said gruffly in the darkness.

"And look!" She pointed to a moonlit niche in the middle of the wall
high and deep enough to hold a life-sized statue. "It would be fun if I
stood up there, wouldn't it?"

There was silence; and then amazingly, his voice cracked out on her like
a whip. "Why do you say that? Did anybody tell you about this place? Has
she told you anything about it?"

"Why, no!" she stammered. "Nobody's told me a thing of it! I just
thought it would be fun if I were to stand up there like a statue. You
take me up too quick."

His passion died suddenly. "No," he said weakly, exhaustedly. "Of course
she wouldn't tell yo