It seemed to the watchers to stay unchanged for a long
time, as it always does to those who watch for its brightening in
trouble and anxiety. Yet while they longed for the light they dreaded to
see it, as the troubled and alarmed always dread, lest it should reveal
something terrible which the darkness has concealed. Their words grew
fewer, also, under this strain of waiting, and they gradually fell into
the tone that night watchers use, when they speak of mysterious things
under the gloomy spell of this sad half-light which is neither night nor
day. In the silences between their hesitating words, they bent forward
and listened. All was still--there was no distant sound of the
attorney-general's return or of the old doctor's coming. In the tense
stillness they could hear only the sad murmur of the river gliding under
the darkness and--now and then--the sudden hurrying of footsteps in the
chamber overhead where the wounded man lay.
And so a long, heavy hour dragged by. The leaden gray framed by the
doorway began to glimmer with a silvery pallor. The quicker breath of
the awakening world sent a heavier shower of leaves from the trees.
Pages:
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342