"Oh, Gabriella! Gabriella!" he murmured as he went back to his
table. He buried his head on his arms a moment, then, starting up,
threw off his clothes, drank the mixture, and got into bed.




XX


At dead of night out in a lonely country, what sound freezes the
blood like the quick cry of an animal seized and being killed? The
fright, the pain, the despair: whosoever has heard these notes has
listened to the wild death-music of Nature, ages old.

On the still frozen air near two or three o'clock of next morning,
such a cry rang out from inside the barn. There were the short
rushes to and fro, round and round; then violent leapings against
the door, the troughs, and sides of the stable; then mad plunging,
struggling, panting; then a long, terrified, weakened wail, which
told everything beyond the clearness of words.

Up in his room, perfectly dark, for the coals in the grate were now
sparkless, David was lying on his back, sleeping heavily and bathed
in perspiration. Overheated, he had pushed the bed covers off from
his throat; he had hollowed the pillow away from his face. So deep
was the stillness of the house and of the night air outside, that
almost the first sounds had reached his ear and sunk down into his
brain: he stirred slightly. As the tumult grew louder, he tossed
his head from side to side uneasily, and muttered a question in his