The man looked down again at the white face in her lap. “There’ll be no use here for doctor or Rescue Society, Miss.” “Oh, go!--for God’s sake go!” “I’m going, Miss--but don’t get afraid in the darkness here.” He hurried down the street. “’Twasn’t my fault,” he murmured as he ran. “Such an idea! to drive down this road this time o’ night.” Emma was left alone with the unconscious man in the gloomy street. “What shall I do now?” she thought. “It can’t be possible--it can’t.” The thought circled dizzily in her brain--“It can’t be possible.” Suddenly she seemed to hear a low breathing. She bent to the pale lips--no--not the faintest breath came from them. The blood had dried on temple and cheek. She gazed at the eyes, the half-closed eyes, and shuddered. Why couldn’t she believe it?... It must be true--this was Death! A shiver ran through her--she felt but one thing--“This is a corpse. I am here alone with a corpse!--a corpse that rests on my lap!” With trembling hands she pushed the head away, until it rested on the ground. Then a feeling of horrible aloneness came over her. Why had she sent the coachman away? What should she do here all alone with this dead man in the darkness? If only some one would come--but what was she to do then if anybody did come? How long would she have to wait here? She looked down at the corpse again. “But I’m not alone with him,” she thought, “the light is there.” And the light seemed to her to become alive, something sweet and friendly, to which she owed gratitude. There was more life in this little flame than in all the wide night about her. It seemed almost as if this light was a protection for her, a protection against the terrible pale man who lay on the ground beside her. She stared into the light until her eyes wavered and the flame began to dance. Suddenly she felt herself awake--wide awake. She sprang to her feet. Oh, this would not do! It would not do at all--no one must find her here with him. She seemed to be outside of herself, looking at herself standing there on the road, the corpse and the light below her; she saw herself grow into strange, enormous proportions, high up into the darkness. “What am I waiting for?” she asked herself, and her brain reeled. “What am I waiting for? The people who might come? They don’t need me. They will come, and they will ask questions--and I--why am I here? They will ask who I am--what shall I answer? I will not answer them--I will not say a word--they can not compel me to talk.” The sound of voices came from the distance.