A murmur, but no light,
came from it. In a moment it was gone, and the deepest silence
filled the world. Arctura entered. One step within the door she
stood still, and held high her taper. Donal looked in sideways.
A small box was on the floor against the foot of the farthest wall,
and on the box, in a long dressing gown of rich faded stuff, the
silk and gold in which shone feebly in the dim light, stood the tall
meagre form of the earl, with his back to the door, his face to the
wall, close to it, and his arms and hands stretched out against it,
like one upon a cross. He stood without moving a muscle or uttering
a sound. What could it mean? Donal gazed in a blank dismay.
Not a minute had passed, though it was to him a long and painful
time, when the murmuring came again. He listened as to a voice from
another world--a thing terrible to those whose fear dwells in
another world. But to Donal it was terrible as a voice from no other
world could have been; it came from an unseen world of sin and
suffering--a world almost a negation of the eternal, a world of
darkness and the shadow of death. But surely there was hope for that
world yet!--for whose were the words in which its indwelling despair
grew audible?
"And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds;
but this man hath done nothing amiss!"
Again the silence fell, but the form did not move, and still they
stood regarding him.
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