“Everybody,” she said, “has his weak points.  This young man is open to approach from at least two quarters—­his pride is one, his work an other.  I am seldom wrong in gauging character; these are his vital spots, and they are of the essence of this matter.  I’m sorry for him, of course—­but at his age, and living a man’s life, these things—­” Her smile was extra pale.  “I wish you could give me something for my head.  It’s foolish to worry.  Nerves of course!  But I can’t help it!  You know my opinion, Dr. Dawney.  That young man will go far if he remains unfettered; he will make a name.  You will be doing him a great service if you could show him the affair as it really is—­a drag on him, and quite unworthy of his pride!  Do help me!  You are just the man to do it!”

Dawney threw up his head as if to shake off this impeachment; the curve of his chin thus displayed was imposing in its fulness; altogether he was imposing, having an air of capability.

She struck him, indeed, as really scared; it was as if her mask of smile had become awry, and failed to cover her emotion; and he was puzzled, thinking, ‘I wouldn’t have believed she had it in her....’  “It’s not an easy business,” he said; “I’ll think it over.”

“Thank you!” murmured Mrs. Decie.  “You are most kind.”

Passing the schoolroom, he looked in through the open door.  Christian was sitting there.  The sight of her face shocked him, it was so white, so resolutely dumb.  A book lay on her knees; she was not reading, but staring before her.  He thought suddenly:  ’Poor thing!  If I don’t say something to her, I shall be a brute!’

“Miss Devorell,” he said:  “You can reckon on him.”

Christian tried to speak, but her lips trembled so that nothing came forth.

“Good-night,” said Dawney, and walked out....

Three days later Harz was sitting in the window of his studio.  It was the first day he had found it possible to work, and now, tired out, he stared through the dusk at the slowly lengthening shadows of the rafters.  A solitary mosquito hummed, and two house sparrows, who had built beneath the roof, chirruped sleepily.  Swallows darted by the window, dipping their blue wings towards the quiet water; a hush had stolen over everything.  He fell asleep.

He woke, with a dim impression of some near presence.  In the pale glimmer from innumerable stars, the room was full of shadowy shapes.  He lit his lantern.  The flame darted forth, bickered, then slowly lit up the great room.

“Who’s there?”

A rustling seemed to answer.  He peered about, went to the doorway, and drew the curtain.  A woman’s cloaked figure shrank against the wall.  Her face was buried in her hands; her arms, from which the cloak fell back, were alone visible.

“Christian?”

She ran past him, and when he had put the lantern down, was standing at the window.  She turned quickly to him.  “Take me away from here!  Let me come with you!”