Still he lingered.
Then, after a little, his nervous ears caught a sound that tingled through his body.
The front door opened.
And standing in the opening behind the screen door, silhouetted against the light, he saw a slim girl.
His temples were pounding. His throat went dry.
The girl came out. Paused. Called over her shoulder in a voice that to Henry was velvet and gold—'In a few minutes'—and then seated herself midway down the steps and leaned her head against the railing. He could see her only faintly now.
Henry moved forward, curiously dazed, tiptoeing over the turf, slipping from tree to tree. Drew near.
She lifted her head.
There was a breathless pause. Then, 'What is it?' she called. 'What is it? Who's there?... O—oh! Why, Henry! You frightened me... What is it? Why do you stand there like that. You aren't ill, Henry?... Where on earth have you been? I've waited and waited for you. I couldn't think what had happened, not having any word.... What is the matter, Henry? You act all tired out. Do sit down here.'
'No,'—the queer breathy voice, Henry knew, must be his own. He was thinking, wildly, of dead souls' standing at the Judgment Seat. He felt like that.... 'No, I can't sit down.'