These seemed to loose themselves from
her and to acquire new powers, notably that of entering into the secret
thoughts of the man at her side. She saw them pass before her like
living things, and yet she could not read them. Still, something she did
understand--that she had suddenly grown important to this man, not in
the way in which women are generally important to men, but otherwise.
She felt as though she had become interwoven with the objects of his
life, and was henceforth necessary to their fulfilment, as though she
were someone whom he had been seeking for years on years, the one person
who could give him light in his darkness.
These imaginings troubled her, so that she was very thankful when they
passed away as swiftly as they had arisen, and she knew only that she
was half dead with weariness and cold; that her limbs ached and that the
steep path seemed endless.
At length they reached level ground, and after travelling along it for
a while and crossing the bed of a stream, passed through a gate, and
stopped suddenly at the door of a house with lighted windows.
"Here is your home at last, Miss Clifford," said the musical voice of
Jacob Meyer, "and I thank the Fate which rules us that it has taught me
to bring you to it safely."
Making no answer she slid from the saddle, only to find that she could
not stand, for she sank into a heap upon the ground.
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