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Patricia held Judith close, with her own heart beating tumultuously to the rhythm of the storm. Hard rattling drops castinetted at the glass, beating an accompaniment to the roar of the racing clouds. For a moment all was black, then, as the whirling cloud masses swept apart, the pelting drops lulled and a gray twilight full of ominous murmurs filled the place. Before Patricia could frame the swift thought that the storm was passing, darkness swept over them again, and the fierce scream of the relentless wind tore at the corners of the barn. The rain beat, deluged, engulfed the out-of-doors; it drummed gayly with diminishing ferocity; then it roared sullenly, flooding the rain spouts to bursting; it raged again, with the scream of the wind growing higher, and snapping branches flung themselves past the gray squares of the windows, flying leaves pasted wet green blurs on the streaming glass. Judith shuddered. "She hasn't told me anything, sir." "But what—" began Patricia again..
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But Jaggard was far from the condition of connected thought or coherent words. He turned and tossed upon his poor bed with bright eyes, burning skin and babbling tongue. His head was swathed in bandages, and the housemaid who watched beside him had frequently to replace the clothes he tossed off in his violent movements. This nurse was a sickly, dark-eyed creature, who was strongly attached to Jaggard; and it was her love for him that made her proffer her services to look after him, and that chained her to his bedside. She reported to her master that Dr. Etwald had been in that morning, and was coming again in the afternoon, but that there was nothing to be done until the delirium had expended itself. Naskowski, on his way to the modeling room, paused to answer Patricia's question. "That was generous of him. But why?" Patricia looked at her with laughing eyes that gradually grew sober..
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