"Well, lift him again then," said a doubtful voice; and once more he heard the drum, close to his ear. Now it was urgent that he should let it be understood that he knew what was going on. He must step over the edge of the plane on which he moved, and come into that upon which these others were moving; since it was clear that they would not come to him. "There! I tell you it isn't fancy! He took quite a long breath! Osbert, can you hear me? Open your eyes, and then I shall know." "By Jove," said another voice, "his eyelids flickered then. I saw it." "Go on calling him, Mrs. Gaunt. You're right, I believe, it is the only way." "Another whiff of that oxygen!" Something like the wind of life swept through him. With an immense effort he opened his eyes. All that he could see was Virgie's face as she stooped over him. He knew--though how he could hardly say--that he was lying in her arms. A keen air blew upon him, his hand, which lay at his side, could feel short turf beneath it. He was coming back--beginning to make use once more of his outward senses. "Do you know me?" she asked, bending over him. Her eyes were full of an intense purpose; there was no shyness, no consciousness--only a vehement desire. He took a long breath, gathered all his force, and whispered huskily: "My--wife!" He saw the sweet face into which he gazed contract pitifully, and the shoulders shake with sobbing. "There, there, that will do, Mrs. Gaunt," ordered Dr. Dymock peremptorily. "He will be all right now. You're utterly worn out. Lay him down and come away." "Try--try first, if he will drink," she gasped, while the heart against his ear functioned violently. He drank, for she told him that he must do so. Obviously she had to be obeyed. Then they laid him down, and raised her up, and took her away, out of his sight. This was too much. He felt it to be an outrage, when he had come back such a tremendous distance, just to be with her. "Virginia," he said, quite clearly. Dymock bent towards him. "All right, old man, she is close by. You shall go home with her quite soon. She is a bit tired, that's all. You must try not to be inconsiderate." A vague smile dawned on Gaunt's face. He made an effort or two, and finally achieved the repetition of the doctor's term. "In-con-sid-erate," he murmured. "That's--that's a word, isn't it?" "Yes, a word. What did you expect?" asked the doctor gently. "I thought I had done with words," sighed the patient, lifting his eyes to the grey autumnal sky. "So did we all--all except your wife," was the reply. "She was certain that you would revive, if she went on calling you." Gaunt filled his lungs with the sharp air. The brandy they had given him began to course in his veins. "Lift me up," he said.