But he could not read. The musical vibration lingered in the air, disturbing him. He even walked into the parlor and laid his hand on the red cover of Basil's old piano. He hoped that it would make no such sound again, he felt that it would disturb him greatly. He walked about uneasily and then returned to his study and got out of the lower drawer of his desk some old notes. He had once made plans for a translation of the "Medea," he had even begun it--was it now too late to snatch a little fame from the passing years? He turned over his old notes eagerly, then more slowly. But his taste had changed as had his handwriting and the lines seemed stiff, the whole stilted and poor. Young faces seemed to smile at him. Poetry, even in translation, was for the Basils and not for him. Medea did not companion with Mary Alcestis! He lay down to his afternoon nap. At four o'clock he woke with a start. He had been wandering in a deep cave and great waters fell and rushed about him. Sometimes delicious peace and coolness encircled him; again he struggled in a steaming bath. Rousing, he remembered suddenly that he was a man of family with a sick wife whom he had not seen for a good many hours. He went rapidly toward the stairway and for the third time approached the closed door. This time he did not stop to listen, but rapped and turned the knob. To his astonishment, Mary Alcestis was not there. Moreover, the covers lay over the foot of the bed just as they had lain in the morning, and he saw now that the drapery was not merely the spread, but sheet and blanket as well. Was it possible that the bed could have been empty when he looked before? At once he went from room to room. She had doubtless sought greater coolness in another spot. Richard's room--she was not there, one guestroom, another--she was nowhere. He remembered the attic and went toward the steps. "Mary Alcestis!" he called. The echoes of his own voice answered him. She could not be so mad as to sit in Basil's room on a day like this! He took the steps in bounds. He found her on Basil's bed. Her eyes were open and she greeted him with a feeble smile. "I called you, Thomas, but I guess you didn't hear." "Why, Mary Alcestis! What are you doing here? How long have you been here?" "Not so very long." The statement was true so far as Mary Alcestis knew. She thought that she had slept a little while. "I came up to get something I wanted and I found I hadn't strength to get back. You will help me, won't you?" Dr. Lister lifted the window and thrust open the shutter, pushing hard to free it from the vines. It was like an oven out of doors, but the air there was at least better than this! "I am afraid the flies will come in, Thomas," protested Mary Alcestis in a stronger voice.