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At length, a cold hand is laid upon my shoulder, and I awake. The wild faces have vanished and all is silent now, and I wonder if the whole thing has been a dream. My father lifts me into the dog-cart, and we drive home through the chill dawn. My mother opens the door softly as we alight. She does not speak, only looks her question.
It came from the pug, which lay coiled up on the sofa, asleep. Reproaching herself with having forgotten the little thing, she took it up in her arms and hushed it when it awoke and began to whine. Then she crept down to the front door, opened it softly, passed out, and closed it after her.
Somehow as Jean looked at the sleeping face, his own heart grew still and quiet and warm, and he felt like he could look at it forever, and suddenly he caught himself singing softly under his breath, "Peace on earth, good will to men." And then he looked down at the little boy's feet and he saw that he was barefooted and his little feet were purple with the cold.
"The man who would touch them, señor," the Mexican said softly, "would die if I have but my hands to kill!" "And now, my fine Countess Ygerne," mocked Drennen, coming a step toward her. "Have you still your nice little habit . . ." As though in answer her hand had sped toward her bosom. But Drennen was too close to her, too quick and too strong.
He went now where Pierre had led him that night, and found the door unlocked. He entered silently, and passed down the dark hall until, on the left, he saw a glow of light that came from the big room. Something in the silence that was ahead of him made his own approach without sound, and softly he entered through the door.
That these wild birds, Not the sparrows only, But the shy, shy finches, Could become so tame, so fearless? Oh, it took time and patience. One had to come every day, At the same hour, And sit very still, And softly, softly, Monotonously, monotonously, Croon, croon, croon, As I am crooning now. At first one cast one's seed At a distance Then nearer, nearer, Till at last Well, you see the result."
His tear-dimmed eyes sought his mother's features, but only rested on them a moment then he shuddered, turned away, and giving the torch to his companion, said, softly: "Cover her head." The soldier's wife spread her coarse apron over the face, which-had smiled so sweetly: but Ulrich threw himself on his knees beside the coffin, buried his face, and remained in this attitude for many minutes.
Yes, she loved him, and must always love him! But she could never know on earth that he was hers, and if she had a spirit to be freed after some few years, would not his spirit have forgotten hers in that far hereafter of their meeting? She dropped her brow upon her arm and softly sobbed. What was there left for her to do except to sob till her heart broke?
Then, feeling the door yield to his hand, Barnabas opened it and, stepping softly into the room, closed it behind him.
"Stop, Robert!" she cried. "You're making it harder for both of us." "Harder for both of us?" he repeated slowly. "Yes." There was a moment's silence. Hillyer, while he spoke, had half-consciously stopped the automobile, which stood now, humming softly, in the middle of the road that stretched white and empty ahead of them and behind them.
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