IN THE SHADOW
tural sighs springing from the glistening shapes seen dimly through the gloom. Again the laugh bubbled like a spring from the side of a mossy bank—a cool, a fresh, a thirsty sound in that place of gaspings. The light of the fire was almost out, yet enough remained to touch dimly these figures, the unregenerate ones of the fanatics, the degenerate shape of the griffone as she danced lightly, silhouetted against the central glow.
And then as the embers cooled she seemed to fade; to slip away even as she danced and laughed, and, as she faded, the gurgling laugh suddenly changed ; it carried a new note—the call of kind, and as this call pierced his straining senses the things which held him to the present snapped; he slipped back into the shadow.
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