suddenly spoke: "The VOICE!" he said.
But Philippa, as though she were
breaking some invisible bond that held
her, groaning even with the effort of
it, said, in a whisper: "No. Not that.
He is dying. Don't you see? That's
what it is. He is dying."

Her father, shocked from his ecstasy,
ran to John Fenn's side, trying to lift
him and calling upon him to say what
was the matter.

"He is going to die," said Philippa,
monotonously.

Henry Roberts, aghast, calling loudly
to old Hannah, ran to the kitchen and
brought back a great bowl of hot water.
"Drink it!" he said. "Drink it, I tell
ye! I believe you're poisoned!"

And while he and Hannah bent over
the unconscious young man, Philippa
seemed to come out of her trance;
slowly, with upraised hands, and head
bent upon her breast, she stepped backward,
backward, out of the room, out
of the house. On the doorstep, in the
darkness, she paused and listened for