"
She obeyed him silently and went away. Then he took his hat and went
out upon the terrace.
Gaspare had said that Hermione's room was dark. Perhaps he had been
mistaken. The key might have been so placed in the lock that he had
been deceived. As Artois walked to a point from which he could see one
of the windows of Hermione's bedroom, he knew that he longed to see a
light there. If the window was dark the form of his fear would be more
distinct. He reached the point and looked up. There was no light.
He stood there for some time gazing at that darkness. He thought of
the bent photograph frame, of the photograph that had been so loved
torn into fragments, of the sound that was--hardly crying, and of the
face he had seen for an instant as he drew near to the island. He
ought to come to some decision, to take some action. Vere was
depending upon him. But he felt as if he could do nothing. In answer
to Vere's appeal he had hastened to the island. And now he was
paralyzed, he was utterly useless.
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