Tonight it was the fine embossed ceiling on which he fixed his eye--the same ceiling at which Ranulph used to gaze when he had slept in this room. On a ground of a rich claret colour patterned with azure arabesques, knobs of a dull gold were embossed, and at the four corners clustered bunches of grapes and scarlet berries in stucco. And though time had dulled their colour and robbed the clusters of many of their berries, they remained, nevertheless, pretty and realistic objects. But, in spite of the light, the focus, and his desire for hard thinking, Master Nathaniel found his thoughts drifting down the most fantastic paths. And, besides, he was so drowsy and his limbs felt so strangely heavy. The colours on the ceiling were getting all blurred, and the old knobs were detaching themselves from their background and shining in space like suns, moons, and stars--or was it like apples--the golden apples of the West? And now the claret-coloured background was turning into a red field--a field of red flowers, from which leered Portunus, and among which wept Ranulph. But the straight road, which for the last few months had been the projection of his unknown, buried purpose, even through this confused landscape glimmered white ... yet, it looked different from usual ... why, of course, it was the Milky Way! And then he knew no more. In the meantime Hazel had been growing more and more restless, and, though she scolded herself for foolishness, more and more anxious. Finally, she could stand it no more: "I think I'll just creep up to the gentleman's door and listen if I can hear him snoring," she said to herself. Hazel believed that it was a masculine peculiarity not to be able to sleep without snoring. But though she kept her ear to the keyhole for a full two minutes, not a sound proceeded from Master Nathaniel's room. Then she softly opened the door. A lighted candle was guttering to its end, and her guest was lying, to all appearance, dead, whilst a suffocating atmosphere pervaded the room. Hazel felt almost sick with terror, but she flung open the casement window as wide as it would go, poured half the water from the ewer into the stove to extinguish its fire, and the remainder over Master Nathaniel himself. To her unspeakable relief he opened his eyes, groaned, and muttered something inaudible. "Oh, sir, you're not dead then!" almost sobbed Hazel. "I'll just go and fetch you a cup of cordial and get you some hartshorn." When she returned with the two restoratives, she found Master Nathaniel sitting up in bed, and, though he looked a little fuddled, his natural colour was creeping back, and the cordial restored him to almost his normal condition. When Hazel saw that he was really himself again, she sank down on the floor and, spent with terror, began to sob bitterly.