"Antony," he said, in a low hoarse voice, "I am a coward. I feel like a gambler who risks his all upon a stake, and dare not look upon the numbers--upon the newly cast dice. No, no, I dare not try it now; let it rest till to-night." As he spoke he covered it carefully with the black cloth, but only to snatch it away, apostrophising it the while. "No, no," he cried; "it is like covering you with a pall and saying you are dead, when, you, the birth of my brains, are ready to leap into new life--new life indeed--the life of that which has had no existence before. Antony, boy," he said exultingly, "what time could be more fitting than the birth of a new day for my invention to see the light? Throw open the window and let in the glow of sunshine and sweet fresh air. It is unsullied yet, and it will give us strength for our--for our--" He hesitated, and his exulting tone changed to one of calm resignation. It was as if he had felt the shadow of failure coming on, and he said softly: "Our triumph, Antony; or, God help me, fortitude to bear our failure!" I had opened the window, and the soft, refreshing morning air floated into the room, seeming to bring with it a suggestion of the scents of the sweet, pure country; and now, in the midst of the silence, broken only by the chirping of the sparrows, and the distant rattle of the wheels of some market-cart, I saw Hallett's countenance grow stern as he placed a little reel of thin paper, narrow as a ribbon, upon a spindle, and then, motioning to me to go to the handle which was to set the model in motion, he stood there with set teeth, and I turned. There was a clicking, humming noise, the whirring of wheels, and the rattle of the little cogs; the ribbon of paper began to run off its spool, and pass round a tiny cylinder; and at that moment the little model seemed illumined by a brilliant ray of sunshine, which darted in at the open window. Then the light seemed to be glorifying Hallett's face, and I was about to utter a cheer, when I felt a jar, and a shock from the fingers that held the handle run right up my arm. There was a sharp, grating noise, a tiny, piercing shriek as of tortured metal; and in place of the busy glistening, whirring wheels an utter stillness. A cloud crossed the rising sun, and with a bitter sigh Hallett stooped down and picked up the black cloth, which he softly and reverently drew over the wreck of his work, as I stood with dilated eyes looking at him aghast. "Poor model," he said softly, "dead so soon!" and with a sad, weary air of resignation as he smiled at me: "it was a very short life, Antony. Let us go down, my boy. You must be wearied out."