tenebrae Jovi_. The name of this terror was agoraphobia. Oleron had begun
to dread air and space and the horror that might pounce upon the
unguarded back.

Presently he so contrived it that his food and flowers were delivered
daily at his door. He rubbed his hands when he had hit upon this
expedient. That was better! Now he could please himself whether he went
out or not....

Quickly he was confirmed in his choice. It became his pleasure to remain
immured.

But he was not happy--or, if he was, his happiness took an extraordinary
turn. He fretted discontentedly, could sometimes have wept for mere
weakness and misery; and yet he was dimly conscious that he would not
have exchanged his sadness for all the noisy mirth of the world outside.
And speaking of noise: noise, much noise, now caused him the acutest
discomfort. It was hardly more to be endured than that new-born fear that
kept him, on the increasingly rare occasions when he did go out, sidling
close to walls and feeling friendly railings with his hand. He moved from
room to room softly and in slippers, and sometimes stood for many seconds
closing a door so gently that not a sound broke the stillness that was in
itself a delight. Sunday now became an intolerable day to him, for, since
the coming of the fine weather, there had begun to assemble in the square
under his windows each Sunday morning certain members of the sect to
which the long-nosed Barrett adhered. These came with a great drum and
large brass-bellied instruments; men and women uplifted anguished voices,
struggling with their God; and Barrett himself, with upraised face and
closed eyes and working brows, prayed that the sound of his voice might
penetrate the ears of all unbelievers--as it certainly did Oleron's. One