Before Robin came her mind had been in a fever. Now that he was gone the fever had gone with him. Would it ever return? She did not ask or wonder. The night fell and the servant came to summon her to dinner. She shook her head. “The signora will not eat anything?” “No, thank you.” She took her arms from the wall and looked at the man. “Could I have the boat?” “The signora wishes to go on the lake?” “Yes.” “I will tell Paolo.” Two or three minutes later the boy who had sung came to say that the boat was ready. Lady Holme fetched a cloak, and went down the dark stone staircase between the lichen-covered walls to the tall iron gate. The boat was lying by the outer steps. She got in and Paolo took the oars. “Where does the signora wish to go?” “Anywhere out on the lake.” He pushed off. Soon the noise of the waterfall behind Casa Felice died away, the spectral facade faded and only the plash of the oars and the tinkle of fishermen’s bells above the nets, floating here and there in the lake, were audible. The distant lights of mountain villages gleamed along the shores, and the lights of the stars gleamed in the clear sky. Now that she was away from the land Lady Holme became more conscious of herself and of life. The gentle movement of the boat promoted an echoing mental movement in her. Thoughts glided through the shadows of her soul as the boat glided through the shadows of the night. Her mind was like a pilgrim, wandering in the darkness cast by the soul. She felt, first, immensely ignorant. She had scarcely ever, perhaps never, consciously felt immensely ignorant before. She felt also very poor, very small and very dingy, like a woman very badly dressed. She felt, finally, that she was the most insignificant of all the living things under the stars to the stars and all they watched, but that, to herself, she was of a burning, a flaming significance. There seemed to be bells everywhere in the lake. The water was full of their small, persistent voices. So had her former life been full of small, persistent voices, but now, abruptly, they were all struck into silence, and she was left listening--for what? For some far-off but larger voice beyond? “What am I to do? What am I to do?” Now she began to say this within herself. The grey calm was floating away from her spirit, and she began to realise what had happened that afternoon. She remembered that just before Robin came she had made up her mind that, though she did not love him, he held the matter of her life or death in his power. Well, if that were so, he had decided. The dice had been thrown and death had come up. No hand had been stretched out in the darkness to the child.