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She looked at Rachael, and very slowly,
very cautiously, poured out the contents. The draught was at her
lips. A moment and she would be past all help, let the whole world
wake and come about her with its utmost power. But in that moment
Rachael started up with a suppressed cry. The creature struggled,
struck her, seized her by the hair; but Rachael had the cup.
Stephen broke out of his chair. 'Rachael, am I wakin' or dreamin'
this dreadfo' night?'
''Tis all well, Stephen. I have been asleep, myself. 'Tis near
three. Hush! I hear the bells.'
The wind brought the sounds of the church clock to the window.
They listened, and it struck three. Stephen looked at her, saw how
pale she was, noted the disorder of her hair, and the red marks of
fingers on her forehead, and felt assured that his senses of sight
and hearing had been awake. She held the cup in her hand even now.
'I thought it must be near three,' she said, calmly pouring from
the cup into the basin, and steeping the linen as before.


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