not have
left her post; but with Letty there she saw no harm in taking ten or
fifteen minutes to conserve her strength.

For the first time in all those hours Letty was alone with him. Not
expecting to be so left she was at first frightened, then audacious.
Except for the one time when she had approached the bedside and kissed
his feet she had remained in her corner, watching with the silent,
motionless intentness of a little animal. Her eyes hardly ever left
the white face; but at this distance even the white face was dim.

Now she was possessed by a great daring. She would steal to the
bedside again. Again she would see the beloved features clearly. Again
she would have the amazing bliss of kissing the coverlet that covered
the dear feet. When Miss Moines returned she would be back again in
her corner, as if she had never left it. If the pulse rose higher, if
there was further hope, if he seemed to be reviving, she could slip
away in the confusion of their joy.

She rose and listened. The house was as still as it had been at other
times when she had listened in the night. She glided to the bed.

He lay as if he had been carved in stone, propped up with pillows to
make breathing easier, his arms outside the coverlet. He was a little
as he had been on the morning when she had passed her hand across his
brow. As then, too, his hair rose in tongues of diabolic flame.

She was near him. She was bending over him. She was bending not above
his feet, but above his head. She knew how mad she was, but she
couldn't help herself. Stooping--stooping--closer--closer--her lips
touched the forked black mane of his hair.

She leaped back. She leaped not only because of her own boldness, but
because he seemed to stir. It was as if this kiss, so light, so
imperceptible, had sent a galvanic throbbing through his frame. She
herself felt it, as now and then in winter she had felt an electric
spark.

Her sin had found her out. She was terrified. He lay just as he had
lain before--only not quite--not quite! His arms were not just as they
had been; the coverlet was slightly, ever so slightly, disturbed. The
nurse would see it and know that....

There was a stirring of a hand. It was so little of a stirring that
she thought her eyes must have deceived her when it stirred again--a
restless toss, like a muscular contraction in sleep. She was not
alarmed now, only excited, and wondering what she ought to do. She
ought to run to the head