Outside the night had grown cool. Gusts of wind blew through the trees, ominously; across the sky the clouds drifted in restless, ever-changing forms.
Natalia was silent as she went out to the carriage, raising her eyes only once to glance furtively at the deserted street. Everything was strangely still now. No one was in sight, where a short while before was a murmuring throng.
The old man sitting beside her in the carriage could find no words to break the silence of the long drive home. Only by the affectionate pressure of his hand did Natalia know that his thoughts were continually of her.
A single light was burning in the hall when the carriage stopped before the house. The veranda and grove were deserted, the illuminations of the garden had been extinguished, and just beginning to show in the fitful light of the late moon were the ghostly blossoms of the magnolias.
Mrs. Houston and Millicent came to the door at the sound of the carriage, meeting them before they had entered the house.
"Is he safe?" Millicent cried.
"Yes, he is safe," Natalia answered, dully. Then turning to Mrs. Houston, she asked, "Where is she?"
The old lady looked towards the door.
"She is in there," nodding in the direction of the parlour. "She has not left his side since they placed him there. She would let no one stay with her."
Natalia hesitated, as she entered the hall, and stood irresolutely before the closed door.