When Mrs. Ritson regained consciousness she looked about with the empty gaze of one who is bending bewildered eyes on vacancy. Greta was kneeling beside her, and she helped to lift her into the bed. Mrs. Ritson did not speak, but she grasped Greta's hand with a nervous twitch, when the girl whispered something in her ear. From time to time she trembled visibly, and glanced with a startled look toward the door. But not a word did she utter. Thus hour after hour wore on, and the night was growing apace. A painful silence brooded over the house. Only in the kitchen was any voice raised above a whisper. There the servants quaked and clucked--every tongue among them let loose in conjecture and the accents of surprise. Hugh Ritson passed again and again from his own room to his mother's. He looked down from time to time at the weary, pale, and quiet face. But he said little. He put no questions. Greta sat beside the bed, only less weary, only less pale and quiet, only less disturbed by horrible imaginings than the sufferer who lay upon it. Toward midnight Hugh came to say that Peter had been sent for her from the vicarage. Greta rose, put on her cloak and hat, kissed the silent lips, and followed Hugh out of the room. As they passed down the stairs Greta stopped at the door of Hugh Ritson's room, and beckoned him to enter it with her. They went in together, and she closed the door. "Now tell me," she said, "what this means." Hugh's face was very pale. His eyes had a wandering look, and when he spoke his voice was muffled. But by an effort of his unquenchable energy he shook off this show of concern. "It means," he said, "that you have been the victim of a delusion." Greta's pale face flushed. "And your mother--has she also been the victim of a delusion?" Hugh shrugged his shoulders, showed his teeth slightly, but made no reply. "Answer me--tell me the truth--be frank for once--tell me, can you explain this mystery?" "If I could explain it, how would it be a mystery?" Greta felt the blood tingle to her finger-tips. "Do you believe I have told you the truth?" she asked. "I am sure you have." "Do you believe I saw Paul in the lane?" "I am sure you think you saw him." "Do you know for certain that he went away?" Hugh nodded his head. "Are you sure he has not got back?" "Quite sure." "In short, you think what I saw was merely the result of woman's hysteria?" Hugh smiled through his white lips, and his staring eyes assumed a momentary look of amused composure. He stepped to the table and fumbled some papers. This reminded Greta of the paper the parson had asked her to deliver. "I ought to have given you this before," she said. "Mr. Christian sent it." He took it without much apparent interest, put it on the table unread, and went to the door with Greta.