'Let me get under cover,' he thought. 'Let me hide in it; it is good,
the sudden intense darkness. I am small and futile: my small,
futile tragedy!'

Helena shrank in the darkness. It was almost terrible to her, and the
silence was like a deep pit. She shrank to Siegmund. He drew her closer,
leaning over her as they walked, trying to assure her. His heart was
heavy, and heavy with a tenderness approaching grief, for his small,
brave Helena.

'Are you sure this is the right way?' he whispered to her.

'Quite, quite sure,' she whispered confidently in reply. And presently
they came out into the hazy moonlight, and began stumbling down the
steep hill. They were both very tired, both found it difficult to go
with ease or surety this sudden way down. Soon they were creeping
cautiously across the pasture and the poultry farm. Helena's heart was
beating, as she imagined what a merry noise there would be should they
wake all the fowls. She dreaded any commotion, any questioning, this
night, so she stole carefully along till they issued on the high-road
not far from home.



_Chapter 13_


In the morning, after bathing, Siegmund leaned upon the seawall in a
kind of reverie. It was late, towards nine o'clock, yet he lounged,