The tangled garden, slowly yielding its splendours to the morning light, the walls of the old house, springing sheer from the grass like the native rock itself--for the first time he feels a gulf between himself and them. His ideals waver in the soul's darkened air; the breath of passion drives them to and fro. With an anguished "Domine, exaudi!" he snatched himself from the window, and leaving the room he crossed the hall, where the Tudor badges on the ceiling, the arms of "Elizabetha Regina" above the great hearth were already clear in the cold dawn, and made his way as noiselessly as possible to the chapel. Those strange figures on the wall had already shaken the darkness from them. Wing rose on wing, halo on halo, each face turning in a mystic passion to the altar and its steadfast light. _Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris, qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem nostram. Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis_. In prayer and passionate meditation he passed through much of the time that had still to be endured. But meanwhile he knew well, in his sinful and shrinking mind, that, for that night at least, he was only praying because he could do nothing else--nothing that would give him Laura, or deliver him from the fears that shook his inmost being. * * * * * A little before six Helbeck left the chapel. He must bathe and dress--then to the farm for the pony cart. If she did not arrive by the first train he would get a horse at Marsland and drive on to Braeside. But first he must take care to leave a message for Mrs. Denton, whose venomous face, as she stood listening the night before to his story of Miss Fountain's mishaps, recurred to him disagreeably. The housekeeper would not be stirring yet, perhaps, for an hour. He went back to his study to write her some short directions covering the hours of his possible absence. The room, as he entered it, struck him as musty and airless, in spite of the open lattice. Instinctively, before writing, he went to throw another window wide. In rushed a fresh rose-scented air, and he leant forward an instant, letting its cool current flow through him. Something white caught his eye beneath the window. * * * * * Laura slowly raised her head. Had she fallen asleep in her fatigue? Helbeck, bending over her, saw her eyes unclose. She looked at him as she had never looked before--with a sad and spiritual simplicity as though she had waked in a world where all may tell the truth, and there are no veils left between man and woman. Her light hat fell back from her brow; her delicate pinched features, with the stamp of suffering upon them, met his look so sweetly--so frankly! "I was _very_ tired," she said, in a new voice, a voice of appealing trust. "And there was no door open." She raised her small hand, and he took it in his, trembling through all his man's strength.