d
not break. When she rose he fancied that he saw her draw something from
her dress and drop it into the fire; but he hardly noticed the gesture at
the time. His faculties seemed tranced, and he was still groping for the
word to break the spell. She went up to him and laid her hands on his
shoulders. "Goodbye," she said, and as he bent over her she touched his
forehead with her lips.

Chapter 13

The street-lamps were lit, but the rain had ceased, and there was a
momentary revival of light in the upper sky. Lily walked on unconscious
of her surroundings. She was still treading the buoyant ether which
emanates from the high moments of life. But gradually it shrank away from
her and she felt the dull pavement beneath her feet. The sense of
weariness returned with accumulated force, and for a moment she felt that
she could walk no farther. She had reached the corner of Forty-first
Street and Fifth Avenue, and she remembered that in Bryant Park there
were seats where she might rest.

That melancholy pleasure-ground was almost deserted when she entered it,
and she sank down on an empty bench in the glare of an electric
street-lamp. The warmth of the fire had passed out of her veins, and she
told herself that she must not sit long in the penetrating dampness which
struck up from the wet asphalt. But her will-power seemed to have spent
itself in a last great effort, and she was lost in the blank reaction
which follows on an unwonted expenditure of energy. And besides, what was
there to go home to? Nothing but the silence of her cheerless room--that
silence of the night which may be more racking to tired nerves than the
most discordant noises: that, and the bottle of chloral by her bed. The
thought of the chloral was the only spot of light in the dark prospect:
she could feel its lulling influence stealing over her already. But she
was troubled by the thought that it was losing its power--she dared not
go back to it too soon. Of late the sleep it had brought her had been
more broken and less profound; there had been nights when she was
perpetually floating up through it to consciousness. What if the effect
of the drug should gradually fail, as all narcotics were said to fail?
She remembered the chemist's warning against increasing the dose; and she
had heard before of the capricious and incalculable action of the drug.
Her dread of returning to a sleepless night was so great that she
lingered on, hoping that excessive w