low　tones。　　To　hear　their　voices　brought　back　the　touch　of　this　world
  of　everyday　which　had　no　part　or　lot　in　the　terrifying　powers　within
  her。
  Dawney　slept　at　the　Villa　now。　　In　the　dead　of　night　he　was　awakened
  by　a　light　flashed　in　his　eyes。　　Christian　was　standing　there；　her
  face　pale　and　wild　with　terror；　her　hair　falling　in　dark　masses　on
  her　shoulders。
  〃Save　him！　　Save　him！〃　she　cried。　　〃Quick！　The　bleeding！〃
  He　saw　her　muffle　her　face　in　her　white　sleeves；　and　seizing　the
  candle；　leaped　out　of　bed　and　rushed　away。
  The　internal　haemorrhage　had　come　again；　and　Nicholas　Treffry　wavered
  between　life　and　death。　　When　it　had　ceased；　he　sank　into　a　sort　of
  stupor。　　About　six　o'clock　he　came　back　to　consciousness；　watching
  his　eyes；　they　could　see　a　mental　struggle　taking　place　within　him。
  At　last　he　singled　Christian　out　from　the　others　by　a　sign。
  〃I'm　beat；　Chris；〃　he　whispered。　　〃Let　him　know；　I　want　to　see　him。〃
  His　voice　grew　a　little　stronger。　　〃I　thought　that　I　could　see　it
  throughbut　here's　the　end。〃　　He　lifted　his　hand　ever　so　little；　and
  let　it　fall　again。　　When　told　a　little　later　that　a　telegram　had　been
  sent　to　Harz　his　eyes　expressed　satisfaction。
  Herr　Paul　came　down　in　ignorance　of　the　night's　events。　　He　stopped
  in　front　of　the　barometer　and　tapped　it；　remarking　to　Miss　Naylor：
  〃The　glass　has　gone　downstairs；　we　shall　have　cool　weatherit　will
  still　go　well　with　him！〃
  When；　with　her　brown　face　twisted　by　pity　and　concern；　she　told　him
  that　it　was　a　question　of　hours；　Herr　Paul　turned　first　purple；　then
  pale；　and　sitting　down；　trembled　violently。　　〃I　cannot　believe　it；〃
  he　exclaimed　almost　angrily。　　〃Yesterday　he　was　so　well！　　I　cannot
  believe　it！　　Poor　Nicholas！　　Yesterday　he　spoke　to　me！〃　　Taking　Miss
  Naylor's　hand；　he　clutched　it　in　his　own。　　〃Ah！〃　he　cried；　letting　it
  go　suddenly；　and　striking　at　his　forehead；　〃it　is　too　terrible；　only
  yesterday　he　spoke　to　me　of　sherry。　　Is　there　nobody；　then；　who　can
  do　good？〃
  〃There　is　only　God；〃　replied　Miss　Naylor　softly。
  〃God？〃　said　Herr　Paul　in　a　scared　voice。
  〃Wecanallpray　to　Him；〃　Miss　Naylor　murmured；　little　spots　of
  colour　came　into　her　cheeks。　　〃I　am　going　to　do　it　now。〃
  Herr　Paul　raised　her　hand　and　kissed　it。
  〃Are　you？〃　he　said；　〃good！　I　too。〃　　He　passed　through　his　study　door；
  closed　it　carefully　behind　him；　then　for　some　unknown　reason　set　his
  back　against　it。　　Ugh！　Death！　It　came　to　all！　Some　day　it　would　come
  to　him。　　It　might　come　tomorrow！　　One　must　pray！
  The　day　dragged　to　its　end。　　In　the　sky　clouds　had　mustered；　and；
  crowding　close　on　one　another；　clung　round　the　sun；　soft；　thick；
  greywhite；　like　the　feathers　on　a　pigeon's　breast。　　Towards　evening
  faint　tremblings　were　felt　at　intervals；　as　from　the　shock　of
  immensely　distant　earthquakes。
  Nobody　went　to　bed　that　night；　but　in　the　morning　the　report　was　the
  same：　〃Unconsciousa　question　of　hours。〃　　Once　only　did　he　recover
  consciousness；　and　then　asked　for　Harz。　　A　telegram　had　come　from
  him；　he　was　on　the　way。　　Towards　seven　of　the　evening　the　long…
  expected　storm　broke　in　a　sky　like　ink。　　Into　the　valleys　and　over
  the　crests　of　mountains　it　seemed　as　though　an　unseen　hand　were
  spilling　goblets　of　pale　wine；　darting　a　sword…blade　zigzag　over
  trees；　roofs；　spires；　peaks；　into　the　very　firmament；　which　answered
  every　thrust　with　great　bursts　of　groaning。　　Just　beyond　the　veranda
  Greta　saw　a　glowworm　shining；　as　it　might　be　a　tiny　bead　of　the
  fallen　lightning。　　Soon　the　rain　covered　everything。　　Sometimes　a　jet
  of　light　brought　the　hilltops；　towering；　dark；　and　hard；　over　the
  house；　to　disappear　again　behind　the　raindrops　and　shaken　leaves。
  Each　breath　drawn　by　the　storm　was　like　the　clash　of　a　thousand
  cymbals；　and　in　his　room　Mr。　Treffry　lay　unconscious　of　its　fury。
  Greta　had　crept　in　unobserved；　and　sat　curled　in　a　corner；　with
  Scruff　in　her　arms；　rocking　slightly　to　and　fro。　　When　Christian
  passed；　she　caught　her　skirt；　and　whispered：　〃It　is　your　birthday；
  Chris！〃
  Mr。　Treffry　stirred。
  〃What's　that？　　Thunder？it's　cooler。　　Where　am　I？　　Chris！〃
  Dawney　signed　for　her　to　take　his　place。
  〃Chris！〃　Mr。　Treffry　said。　　〃It's　near　now。〃　　She　bent　across　him；
  and　her　tears　fell　on　his　forehead。
  〃Forgive！〃　she　whispered；　〃love　me！〃
  He　raised　his　finger；　and　touched　her　cheek。
  For　an　hour　or　more　he　did　not　speak；　though　once　or　twice　he　moaned；
  and　faintly　tightened　his　pressure　on　her　fingers。　　The　storm　had
  died　away；　but　very　far　off　the　thunder　was　still　muttering。
  His　eyes　opened　once　more；　rested　on　her；　and　passed　beyond；　into
  that　abyss　dividing　youth　from　age；　conviction　from　conviction；　life
  from　death。
  At　the　foot　of　the　bed　Dawney　stood　covering　his　face；　behind　him
  Dominique　knelt　with　hands　held　upwards；　the　sound　of　Greta's
  breathing；　soft　in　sleep；　rose　and　fell　in　the　stillness。
  XXIX
  One　afternoon　in　March；　more　than　three　years　after　Mr。　Treffry's
  death；　Christian　was　sitting　at　the　window　of　a　studio　in　St。　John's
  Wood。　　The　sky　was　covered　with　soft；　high　clouds；　through　which
  shone　little　gleams　of　blue。　　Now　and　then　a　bright　shower　fell；
  sprinkling　the　trees；　where　every　twig　was　curling　upwards　as　if
  waiting　for　the　gift　of　its　new　leaves。　　And　it　seemed　to　her　that
  the　boughs　thickened　and　budded　under　her　very　eyes；　a　great
  concourse　of　sparrows　had　gathered　on　those　boughs；　and　kept　raising
  a　shrill　chatter。　　Over　at　the　far　side　of　the　room　Harz　was　working
  at　a　picture。
  On　Christian's　face　was　the　quiet　smile　of　one　who　knows　that　she　has
  only　to　turn　her　eyes　to　see　what　she　wishes　to　see；　of　one　whose
  possessions　are　safe　under　her　hand。　　She　looked　at　Harz　with　that
  possessive　smile。　　But　as　into　the　brain　of　one　turning　in　his　bed
  grim　fancies　will　suddenly　leap　up　out　of　warm　nothingness；　so　there
  leaped　into　her　mind　the　memory　of　that　long　ago　dawn；　when　he　had
  found　her　kneeling　by　Mr。　Treffry's　body。　　She　seemed　to　see　again
  the　dead　face；　so　gravely　quiet；　and　furrowless。　　She　seemed　to　see
  her　lover　and　herself　setting　forth　silently　along　the　river　wall
  where　they　had　first　met；　sitting　down；　still　silent；　beneath　the
  poplar…tree　where　the　little　bodies　of　the　chafers　had　lain　strewn　in
  the　Spring。　　To　see　the　trees　changing　from　black　to　grey；　from　grey
  to　green；　and　in　the　dark　sky　long　white　lines　of　cloud；　lighting　to
  the　south　like　birds；　and；　very　far　away；　rosy　peaks　watching　the
  awakening　of　the　earth。　　And　now　once　again；　after　all　that　time；
  she　felt　her　spirit　shrink　away　from　his；　as　it　had　shrunk　in　that
  hour；　when　she　had　seemed　hateful　to　herself。　　She　remembered　the
  words　she　had　spoken：　〃I　have　no　heart　left。　　You've　torn　it　in　two
  between　you。　　Love　is　all　selfI　wanted　him　to　die。〃　　She　remembered
  too　the　raindrops　on　the　vines　like　a　million　tiny　lamps；　and　the
  throstle　that　began　singing。　　Then；　as　dreams　die　out　into　warm
  nothingness；　recollection　vanished；　and　the　smile　came　back　to　her
  lips。
  She　took　out　a　letter。
  〃。。。。O　Chris！　　We　are　really　coming；　I　seem　to　be　always　telling　it
  to　myself；　and　I　have　told　Scruff　many　times；　but　he　does　not　care；
  because　he　is　getting　old。　　Miss　Naylor　says　we　shall　arrive　for
  breakfast；　and　that　we　shall　be　hungry；　but　perhaps　she　will　not　be
  very　hungry；　if　it　is　rough。　　Papa　said　to　me：　'Je　serai
  inconsolable；　mais　inconsolable！'　　But　I　think　he　will　not　be；
  because　he　is　going　to　Vienna。　　When　we　are　come；　there　will　be
  nobody　at　Villa　Rubein；　Aunt　Constance　has　gone　a　fortnight　ago　to
  Florence。　　There　is　a　young　man　at　her　hotel；　she　says　he　will　be　one
  of　the　greatest　playwriters　in　England；　and　she　sent　me　a　play　of　his
  to　read；　it　was　only　a　little　about　love；　I　did　not　like　it　very
  much。。。。　　O　Chris！　I　think　I　shall　cry　when　I　see　you。　　As　I　am　quite
  grown　up；　Miss　Naylor　is　not　to　come　back　with　me；　sometimes　she　is
  sad；　but　she　will　be　glad　to　see　you；　Chris。　　She　seems　always　sadder
  when　it　is　Spring。　　Today　I　walked　along　the　wall；　the　little　green
  balls　of　wool　are　growing　on　the　poplars　already；　and　I　saw　one
  chafer；　it　will　not　be　long　before　the　cherry　blossom　comes；　and　I
  felt　so　funny；　sad　and　happy　together；　and　once　I　thought　that　I　had
  wings　and　could　fly　away　up　the　valley　to　Meranbut　I　had　none；　so　I
  sat　on　the　bench　where　we　sat　the　day　we　took　the　pictures；　and　I
  thought　and　thought；　there　was　nothing　came　to　me　in　my　thoughts；　but
  all　was　sweet　and　a　little　noisy；　and　rather　sad；　it　was　like　the
  buzzing　of　the　chafer；　in　my　head；　and　now　I　feel　so　tired　and　all　my
  blood　is　running　up　and　down　me。　　I　do　not　mind；　because　I　know　it　is
  the　Spring。
  〃Dominique　came　to　see　us　the　other　day；　he　is　very　well；　and　is　half
  the　proprietor　of　the　Adler　Hotel；　at　Meran；　he　is　not　at　all
  different；　and　he　asked　about　you　and　about　Aloisdo　you　know；
  Chris；