He bit his
lip, turning away from the sunshine with knitted brows and fierce
eyes. No, it is no light matter to trifle with the heart, even if it
is only one's own. Nor is it wise for a man, set on a cool,
calculating task of self-advancement, to call up waters from his
hidden wells of tenderness, or to allow a nature strangely susceptible
(as even the worst natures are) to the appeal of the good and
beautiful to have full play, if only for a brief hour. Another five
minutes undisturbed in that splendid hall, with God's divine world
before him and the highest, purest art of man about him, and Travers
might never have waited to meet Nehal Singh. He might have gone
thence, and taken his schemes and plans and ambitions to another
sphere of activity. Five minutes! One second is enough to change a
dozen destinies. A straw divides an act of heroism from an act of
cowardice.
Archibald Travers turned. He had heard no sound and yet he was certain
that he was no longer alone, that some one stood behind him and was
watching him. For a minute he remained motionless; the bright sunlight
had dazzled him and he could only see the shadows in which the back of
the chamber was enveloped. Yet the consciousness of another presence
continued, and when suddenly a shadow freed itself from the rest and
came toward him, he started less with surprise than with a reasonless,
nameless alarm. It was a woman's figure which came down toward the
golden patch of light in which he stood.
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