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Yet something of her remained and was very definite, so definite that even Dion, broken on the wheel and indifferent to casual influences as few men are ever indifferent, felt it almost powerfully the concentration of her will, the unyielding determination of her mind, active and intense behind the pale mask of her physical body. He turned away and went to the window farthest from her.
But Dion had seemed a forerunner, and little Robin seemed That for which she had long waited, the fulfilment of the root desire of her whole being as applied to human life. When the service was over and the procession had gone out Rosamund sat very still listening to the organ.
After a moment of silence Rosamund simply said, "Poor child!" and then spoke of something else, but in those two words, said as she had said them, Dion thought he heard a definite condemnation of Mrs. Clarke.
She realized now exactly the meaning of what she had done. She had no more illusions about herself, about her conduct. She condemned herself utterly. She had come to that place of the dead absolutely resolved to ask forgiveness of Dion. And yet now that she saw his body the sense of personal outrage woke in her, gripped her. She grew hot, she tingled. A fierce jealousy of the flesh tormented her.
What harm could come to him with his father, and such a competent father too?" That thought of Dion's strength, coolness, competency reassured her; she dwelt on it. Of course with Dion Robin must be all right. Presently, leaving the path in front of the house, she went again to the seat hidden away behind the shrubs against the wall which separated the garden from the Dark Entry.
Between the present and the distant period of a second meeting lay respite from peril, and perhaps the possibility of victory. Dion did not recognize himself. He seemed as unstable as a swaying reed, because he had conquered his wish to re-enter old Didymus's house and encourage him, and passed on to his own home.
Besides, I didn't want to disturb any one, especially your mother." "Well, just now I found the drawing-room window wide open, and mater's bed hasn't been touched. What do you make of that?" Before Dion could reply the boy abruptly started up. "I heard something. I know I did."
The priest clapped his hands and bowed his head, and Dion saw him peer cautiously through the tangled locks which fell over his face to see how Pericles had taken this prophecy. The Great Archon was standing quietly beside Anaxagoras, and neither one gave any sign of being impressed by the oracle. The priest scowled under his wreath.
Among the contributors to the present volume are the Rev. Dr. Bellows, Edmund Blunt, Dion Bourcicault, Professor Dana of Yale College, Edward Everett, Professor Felton of Cambridge, Parke Godwin, Richard Hildreth, George S. Hillard, William Henry Hurlbut, and Professors Lowell and Parsons of Cambridge.
I know you can be silent, Dion. You could as a boy, if anything was to be hidden from our parents. Would you still be ready to plunge into the water for me, as in those days? Scarcely. Yet you may be trusted, and, even in this labyrinth, I will do so. My heart is heavy. But not one word to any person.
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