The moment he
saw her begin to be restless or look distressed, he laid his hand
upon hers; she was immediately quiet, and lay for a time as if she
knew herself safe. When she seemed about to wake, he withdrew.
So things went on for many nights. Donal slept instead of working
when his duties with Davie were over, and lay at night in the
corridor, wrapt in his plaid. For even after Arctura began to
recover, her nights were sorely troubled, and her restoration would
have been much retarded, had not Donal been near to make her feel
she was not abandoned to the terrors she passed through.
One night the earl, wandering about in the anomalous condition of
neither ghost nor genuine mortal, came suddenly upon what he took
for a huge animal in wait to devour. He was not terrified, for he
was accustomed to such things, and thought at first it was not of
this world: he had no doubt of the reality of his visions, even when
he knew they were invisible to others, and even in his waking
moments had begun to believe in them as much as in the things then
evident to him--or rather, perhaps, to disbelieve equally in both.
He approached to see what it was, and stood staring down upon the
mass. Gently it rose and confronted him--if confronting that may be
called where the face remained so undefined--for Donal took care to
keep his plaid over his head: he had hope in the probable condition
of the earl! He turned from him and walked away.
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