CHAPTER XV
NIGHT AND MORNING
The picture of the night was in three panels,—that of the morning in one.
According to Nora, Mr. Esterbrook had suffered a shock, that indefinite something that may mean so many things. He had been in the library and had evidently fallen in crossing the room. Miss Felton had found him and had sent for two or three doctors, who were now with him; she was terribly upset, and so the woman babbled on until the house was reached.
Three coupés were lined up before the door, and the house was lighted from top to bottom. Poppea judged that the physicians were still in consultation.
The cook opened the door, explaining that Caleb was wanted upstairs, and that Nora was to go at once to Miss Felton.
On her way to her room Poppea passed through the sitting room and tapped at Miss Emmy's door, which stood ajar, but there was no answer; the room was empty, so she continued on her way.
Turning up the light, she looked about the pretty bedroom, her eyes lingering on each article it contained. Was it possible that only four hours had elapsed since she had left it? Yes, the little Dresden clock was tinkling twelve.
Flowers from a concert of two days before filled the jars on the mantel-shelf, then she remembered that all the tributes of that evening had been forgotten and left behind. Philip had brought her a wicker basket of daffodils such as later in the season starred the bank garden below the parapet at home. She hoped that he would not know and be hurt; as for the rest, what did it matter?
The night was warm, yet she closed the window, and crouching before the hearth, lit the symmetrical pile of small logs put there chiefly for ornament. Stripping off her gay attire and dropping it in a heap on the floor of the dressing closet, she threw a wrapper about her and again kneeled before the fire, as though its upward motion was a spell against the loneliness of the room. As she looked at the curling flames, her eyes dilated, and a terror that was an absolute pain swept over her: a strain of music had penetrated the fog that enveloped her brain; it was the song of the Knight—the Knight of the Grail.