After that there was silence; and Brand's companion lay and looked on the picture outside, that was so dark and solemn and still. In the midst of all that blaze of various and trembling lights was the unseen river--unseen but for the myriad reflections that showed the ripples of the water; then the far-reaching rows of golden stars, spanning the bridges, and marking out the long Embankment sweep beyond St. Thomas's Hospital. On the other side black masses of houses--all their commonplace detail lost in the mysterious shadow; and over them the silver crescent of the moon just strong enough to give an edge of white to a tall shot-tower. Then far away in the east, in the clear dark sky, the dim gray ghost of a dome; scarcely visible, and yet revealing its presence; the great dome of St. Paul's. This beautiful, still scene--the silence was so intense that the footfall of a cab-horse crossing Waterloo Bridge could be faintly heard, as the eye followed the light slowly moving between the two rows of golden stars--seemed to possess but little interest for the owner of these rooms. For the moment he had lost altogether his habitual air of proud reserve. "Evelyn," he said, abruptly, "was it not in these very rooms you insisted that, if the work was good, one need not be too scrupulous about one's associates?" "I believe so," said the other, indifferently: he had almost lost hope of ever overcoming his friend's inveterate suspicion. "Well," Brand said, "there is something in that. I believe in the work that Lind is engaged in, if I am doubtful about him. And if it pleases you or him to say that I have joined you merely because I express sympathy, and promise to say nothing, well and good. But you: you are more than that?" The question somewhat startled Lord Evelyn; and his pale face flushed a little. "Oh yes," he said; "of course. I--I cannot precisely explain to you." "I understand. But, if I did really join, I should at least have you for a companion." Lord Evelyn turned and regarded him. "If you were to join, it might be that you and I should never see each other again in this world. Have I not told you?--Your first pledge is that of absolute obedience; you have no longer a right to your own life; you become a slave, that others may be free." "And you would have me place myself in the power of a man like Lind?" Brand exclaimed. "If it were necessary," said Lord Evelyn, "I should hold myself absolutely at the bidding of Lind; for I am convinced he is an honest man, as he is a man of great ability and unconquerable energy and will. But you would no more put yourself in Lind's power than in mine. Lind is a servant, like the rest of us. It is true he has in some ways a sort of quasi-independent position, which I don't quite understand; but as regards the Society that I have joined, and that you would join, he is a servant, as you would be a servant. But what is the use of talking? Your temperament isn't fitted for this kind of work."