She sat up among her pillows of satin sheen. By the sulphuric glow of the night-light, she saw that it was after one o’clock, three long hours since Adeline had tip-toed out.
After one and to-morrow——
The face of the sardonyx-like clock seemed to grin back at her in anticipation of the seventh—said to be the perfect day. “The faith of fools—the faith of fools!” it ticked away.
Until she knew that John was not to join her, she had failed to appreciate how greatly she was relying upon his assistance and advice. To choose between His Majesty’s diabolic assignment and the ingenious torments to which she and her babe would be subjected became the more impossible the longer she considered.
Were she what she once had been, expectant of the best because all-ignorant of the worst, she would have decided, without a moment’s hesitation, upon what she knew to be right. But knowledge was weakening. Constant association with sin and suffering wore away the best intentions. To struggle against fore-assured failure until the negligent hopes of Gehenna changed to fear and fear changed, to despair——
She covered her eyes from the suggestive leer of the clock-face and sank back into the veil of her crepe-black hair.
“Amor ... Innocentia ... Where are you?”
“Tap! Tap!”
As though in answer to her stifled sob of loneliness, the metallic sound was repeated on the pane. Could they be without, the comrades of her youth, come to console her even before she called? Into peignoir and mules she hurried; crossed the room; threw wide the casement.
“Who is it? Who is there?”