II-XIX

A hoarse, thin cry sounded from within
the Makimmon dwelling. It fluctuated
with intolerable pain and died abruptly
away, instantly absorbed in the brooding calm of the
valley, lost in the vast, indifferent serenity of noon.
But its echo persisted in Gordon's thoughts and emotions.
He was sitting by the stream, before his
house; and, as the cry had risen, he had moved
suddenly, as though an invisible hand had touched
him upon the shoulder. He sat reflected on the sliding
water against the reflection of the far, blue sky.
One idea ran in a circle through his brain, his lips
formed it soundlessly, he even spoke it aloud:

"It ain't as though I had gone," he said.

The possible consequence to Lettice of what had
been a mere indecision seemed to him out of any
proportion. No, he thought, I wouldn't have gone
when the time came; when the minute came I'd have
held back. Then again, it ain't as though I had
gone. A species of surprise alternated with resentment
at the gravity of the situation which had resulted
from his indiscreet conduct; the agony of that
cry from within the house was too deep to have pro-

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p263 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p264w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p265

v?