The distance between her happy recollections of the past and the tragic events of the present was too great to be traversed by Hera’s mind in so short a time. Her heart felt heavy, like a stone falling into dark waters. Alone with her grief, she felt afraid. In falling, Gannon had broken his neck. The only marks on his body were a gash on the back of his head and bruises around his neck. His uninjured, handsome face was white, but natural in expression. The wretched mother looked into his face. She touched and petted it. She covered it with tears and kisses. She touched his hands, but they were cold and stiff. She hastily drew hers back. Nearly beside herself, she threw her arms around him. Shedding tears and moaning his name, she trembled above him. At last she lost her powers of self-control and swooned away. While Hera lay over the body of Gannon, Lupa entered. Learning from the gossip of the neighbors that some one was dead, she knocked on Alcmaeon’s door. As no one answered, she opened it and whispered Psyche’s name. Not hearing a reply the second time, she entered, and saw Hera prostrate upon a body which lay on a litter. She quietly approached and lightly touched her. There was no response. She called aloud, “O Hera, Hera!” and shook her. Hera slowly returned to consciousness and looked vacantly around the room. When she saw Lupa’s homely face so full of sympathy, she whispered that Gannon was dead. Lupa made no reply. Throwing her long arms around Hera’s neck, she sobbed aloud. Soon after, they heard some one outside. It was Alcmaeon, coming home from school. “Hail, wife!” he cheerfully sang out, as he opened the door. But the happy words of greeting had hardly died on his lips when he saw Hera and Lupa weeping. Hera quickly ran to meet him; Lupa slipped quietly out of the room. Through tears and sobs Hera then told him the terrible news. He seemed stunned. He looked upon Gannon’s face and walked away. So greatly shocked was he that at first he did not understand the weight of his affliction. Gradually its full force descended upon his heart with crushing power. He could not weep. He groaned. He began to rave. He looked to heaven and called upon the gods. When he became more calm, he said with a trembling voice, “This was no accident, O wife! This was no accident!” “Why, what meanest thou, O husband?” “When didst thou say he was on the roof?” he asked suspiciously. “At midnight,” she replied. “How came he on the roof at that time unless he was ordered?” he asked, more suspicious than before. “I know not, O husband.” “Has he not told us that after his dinner ’twas his custom to work until he went to bed? The night was not warm, O Hera. Believe me, he was ordered there,” said Alcmaeon, with an air of conviction. “Ay; then ’twas an unusual command.” “Hearken unto me, O wife. Gannon has been murdered!” exclaimed Alcmaeon. “Say not so, O Alcmaeon!” said Hera, excitedly. “Ay, murdered!” repeated Alcmaeon.