sometimes make himself happy with his unhappiness.

Ah! but Wonder! No, if Antony needed her no more, Wonder did. She must
stay for Wonder's sake. And perhaps, who could say, Antony might yet
need her, might come to her some day and say "Beatrice," with the old
voice. To be really necessary to Antony again, if only for one little
hour,--yes! she could wait and suffer for that.




CHAPTER XIII


THE HUMAN SACRIFICE

The valley was an ill place even for the body, a lair of rheums and
agues; and disembodied fevers waited in wells for the sunk pail. For the
valley was very beautiful, beautiful with that green beauty that only
comes of damp and decay.

Late one October night, Antony, alone with Silencieux, as was now again
his custom, was surprised to hear footsteps coming hastily up the wood,
and even more surprised at the sudden unusual appearance of Beatrice.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Antony," she said, noting with a pang how
the lamp had been arranged to throw a vivid light upon Silencieux, "but
I want you to come down and look at Wonder. I'm afraid she is ill."

"Wonder, ill!" exclaimed Antony, rising with a start, "I will come at