Perhaps she had gone from the passage in to see her aunt? Close by his own door? Or she might have left the door of Kate's or the children's room open when she went out, and have shut it again just as he opened his. Could she be sitting there dreaming? He felt sure of it; but that was because he wished it to be so. But still he went forward. At last close up to the door he could hear the children in their room and the servant bustling about in the kitchen to the left. He turned round and felt much relieved. He walked back much faster, keeping his hands in front of him; suddenly he took hold of a warm, firm arm. He shivered and trembled, sparks seemed to flash from his eyes; he stopped abruptly. But the arm scarcely moved, so he regained courage. He let his arm glide slowly down from the arm and round the waist, which he cautiously encircled. It felt soft and pliable; she stood quite still but trembled a little. He gave a faint pressure. With his other hand he took hold of her hand and gently pressed it; it trembled too. He pressed it again--and step by step they moved slowly forward--without resistance, but still not quite willingly. He could just hear his own footsteps, but hers not at all; the children were talking quietly now. There was not a sound to be heard either in Kule's, or in the aunt's room; but in front of them was an open chink at his door. They arrived there; he pushed it open gently and would have led her in; but here she stopped and tried to draw away her hand. He heard her breathing and felt her breath, could just make out the pale face as he gently pushed her to the threshold, then over it, and closed the door behind them. Here he let go his hold of her so as to shut the door as quietly as possible. She stood with her back to him just as he left her; but with her face buried in her hands; when he came up to her she began to cry. He put his arm round her to draw her closer to him; and her crying turned to sobbing. She sobbed so bitterly and grievously that his blood was sobered and a fresh train of thought set in. Unresistingly she let him lead her to the sofa; she sobbed so despairingly that he felt he must have a light, as one would if anyone were taken ill. So he made haste to trim the lamp, remembered though that the blinds must first be pulled down, so he did that and then lit the lamp. No one could weep like that who had not been for days and nights shut in with their grief. The very table she leaned on shook with her sobs.