"How late you are, dear!"
"Don't waken me in the morning."
In his bedroom he was partly conscious that familiar things looked
strange--or was it that another man had come back to them? He
undressed rapidly and got into bed, drawing a deep breath. It was
all over. Bessie Collister was gone. It was nearly impossible that
she could ever be traced and brought back. A monstrous judicial
crime had been prevented. _He_ had been permitted to prevent it.
And now for the long, long rest of a dreamless sleep.
But in the vague, intermediate half-world of consciousness before
sleep comes, he was aware of another, a warmer and more secret
motive. Fenella! "Tell him to come back to me!" Ah, no, not until
he had wiped out his fault. But now he could go to her! He had
broken down the barrier between them. He had buried his sin in the
sea.
Thank God! Thank God!
And then sleep, deep sleep, and the breathless day coming on.