ancestry. Yet many women might have found a charm in that dark, thoughtful
face, with its hidden fire and energy, although Septimius never thought of
its being handsome, and seldom looked at it. Yet now he was drawn to it by
seeing how strangely white it was, and, gazing at it, he observed that
since he considered it last, a very deep furrow, or corrugation, or
fissure, it might almost be called, had indented his brow, rising from the
commencement of his nose towards the centre of the forehead. And he knew
it was his brooding thought, his fierce, hard determination, his intense
concentrativeness for so many months, that had been digging that furrow;
and it must prove indeed a potent specific of the life-water that would
smooth that away, and restore him all the youth and elasticity that he had
buried in that profound grave.

But why was he so pale? He could have supposed himself startled by some
ghastly thing that he had just seen; by a corpse in the next room, for
instance; or else by the foreboding that one would soon be there; but yet
he was conscious of no tremor in his frame, no terror in his heart; as why
should there be any? Feeling his own pulse, he found the strong, regular
beat that should be there. He was not ill, nor affrighted; not expectant
of any pain. Then why so ghastly pale? And why, moreover, Septimius, did
you listen so earnestly for any sound in Aunt Keziah's chamber? Why did
you creep on tiptoe, once, twice, three times, up to the old woman's
chamber, and put your ear to the keyhole, and listen breathlessly? Well;
it must have been that he was subconscious that he was trying a bold
experiment, and that he had taken this poor old woman to be the medium of
it, in the hope, of course, that it would turn out well; yet with other
views than her interest in the matter. What was the harm of that? Medical
men, no doubt, are always doing so, and he was a medical man for the time.
Then why was he so pale?