not. I hope to enter Religion.... No, I have not
yet determined.... The Dower House?... Yes, I will sell it.... Yes, to
Hubert, if he wishes it."

Every word he whispered was such an effort that she had to pause again
and again before he could make her understand; and often she judged more
by the movement of his lips than by any sound that came from him. Now and
then too she lifted her handkerchief, soaked in a strong violet scent,
and passed it over his forehead and lips. She motioned with the flask of
cordial once or twice, but his eyes closed for a negative.

As she knelt and watched him, her thoughts circled continually in little
flights; to the walled garden of the Dower House in sunshine, and Anthony
running across it in his brown suit, with the wallflowers behind him
against the old red bricks and ivy, and the tall chestnut rising behind;
to the wind-swept hills, with the thistles and the golden-rod, and the
hazel thickets, and Anthony on his pony, sunburnt and voluble, hawk on
wrist, with a light in his eyes; to the warm panelled hall in winter,
with the tapers on the round table, and Anthony flat on his face, with
his feet in the air before the hearth, that glowed and roared up the wide
chimney behind, and his chin on his hands, and a book open before him;
or, farther back even still, to Anthony's little room at the top of the
house, his clothes on a chair, and the boy himself sitting up in bed with
his arms round his knees as she came in to wish him good-night and talk
to him a minute or two. And every time the circling thought came home and
settled again on the sight of that still straight figure lying on the
mattress, against the discoloured bricks, with the light of the taper
glimmering on his thin face and brown hair and beard; and every time her
heart consented that this was the best of all.

A bird chirped suddenly from some hole in the Tower, once, and then three
or four times; she glanced up at the window and the light of dawn was
beginning. Then, as the minutes went by, the city began to stir itself
from sleep. There came a hollow whine from the Lion-gate fifty yards
away; up from the river came the shout of a waterman; two or three times
a late cock crew; and still the light crept on and broadened. But Anthony
still lay with his eyes closed.

At last over the cobbles outside a cart rattled, turned a corner and was
silent. Anthony had opened his eyes now and was looking at her again; and
again she