"Steep Water's getting fuller every minute," said Alexander. "D'you hear her? She runs underground just behind the house, and out again by the inn. She's roaring." "We shall have a fine night of shaking windows, and howling wind, and creaking trees," said Clara, coming from the scullery. "This old house will blow down some day." "No, no; it's rooted well." Rutherford went to the doorway and stood there and Clara took her sewing to the table, where Alexander already sat under the lamplight. "Have you done your lessons?" she asked him. "To-morrow'll do." "To-night, my son. There might be an earthquake to-morrow, and it would be a pity to leave anything unfinished." Edward Webb gave a little chuckle. Great drops of rain hissed on the fire, and Rutherford, beyond the circle of light, began to pace the floor. "Jim, I'll play chess with you." "I think I'll have to get a breath of air." "Not to-night. I shouldn't go out to-night." He made no answer, but went to the door again and stood there. Edward Webb could hear him shifting from one foot to another, and he felt in the air a disturbance he could not name. Outside, the wind was shrieking, dashing itself against trees, walls, and counter-winds. It played with the rain, and tried to outcry the steady roaring of the streams. Within there was firelight, Clara sewing, Alexander at his books, and a man growing drowsy in the armchair; but peace was not there, for desire was trying to break through its prison-house, and its struggles could be felt. Rutherford cleared his throat and again marched to and fro in the gloom. "Well, I think I'll get on my boots," he said, and gave out another cough. Clara stitched on, Alexander did not look up, and Edward Webb became aware of more than that striving, imprisoned thing. He felt the contest of human wills. He was afraid to move, lest he should throw the balance to one side or the other, but he could see Clara's face, and he watched it. He thought he saw decision and indecision chasing each other there before she laid her work in her lap and spoke to Rutherford. "I wish you'd go to Janet's for me, Jim." "Is it important? I wasn't thinking of going that way." She hesitated before she answered. "Yes; I'd like you to go." "All right, I will if I have time." Alexander looked up swiftly, but dropped his chin into his hands again and his eyes to his book. "Let me have your pen, Alec." She wrote a note while Rutherford pulled on his boots. "Here, keep it in your pocket." She held out his overcoat, and when he had put it on she laid her hands on his shoulders for an instant. "Come back soon," Edward Webb heard her say softly, and then there was the sound of Rutherford's boots in the yard. "Did you see to the geese, Alec?" It was her nightly question. "No. I'll do it now." "Better take your coat." He paused in his passage to the door. "But--oh ay, very well," he said.