ought to hurt, that they would hurt, by and by, but there was a strange sense of peace and healing on him now. Words without end or beginning were sliding through his mind. Some of them said: "Can only be bought back by tears—by tears—and the fires that are not quenched." What could only be bought back? He fell asleep over the thought, but when he woke again it was ready for him.
"The simplicity of the heart can only be bought back by tears and terror and the fires that are not quenched."
That was it. But what did it mean to him? Idly he tried to reason the matter, and because thought flowed more coherently now, he acknowledged certain things. Certainly he had sold his simplicity of heart long ago—if he ever had it. For a while his mind slid among memories of the past which seemed to indicate that he had had it; and drifting out of nowhere came the legend of the old Norse Loke who had the mind of the gods, desiring good, and the heart of the giants, desiring evil. Far away in those dim, childish years, and in the later keener years of boyhood, Dick remembered how those two had always warred in him. He smiled now in a curious pity for that growing fierce-hearted boy who had once been himself. But Loke had cast himself out of Jotunheim in despair at his increasing wickedness. Dick would never need to do that. He had never fully let his heart overrule his mind. He had always kept his work straight and honest. That thought brought him up with a jarring, clattering crash that seemed almost physical. His drowsy content flew to pieces, and with staring, horror-stricken eyes he tried to sit up, tried to get out of bed.
The room was dark and still. It was midnight, perhaps, and men were asleep about him; men who knew what he had done, who knew that he had betrayed the last thing which he held sacred; men who knew thought again jerked him to a full stop. They did not know. Hensham's friendly voice and words conveyed meaning to him now. They did not know, thank God, and they need never know. He lay down again, shivering and feeling the throbbing ache of returning life in all his limbs.
