Lily sat quiet, leaning to the fire: the clatter of cups behind her soothed her as familiar noises hush a child whom silence has kept wakeful. But when Gerty stood at her side with the tea she pushed it away, and turned an estranged eye on the familiar room.
"I came here because I couldn't bear to be alone," she said.
Gerty set down the cup and knelt beside her.
"Lily! Something has happened--can't you tell me?""I couldn't bear to lie awake in my room till morning. I hate my room at Aunt Julia's--so I came here---"She stirred suddenly, broke from her apathy, and dung to Gerty in a fresh burst of fear.
"Oh, Gerty, the furies . . . you know the noise of their wings--alone, at night, in the dark? But you don't know--there is nothing to make the dark dreadful to you---"The words, flashing back on Gerty's last hours, struck from her a faint derisive murmur; but Lily, in the blaze of her own misery, was blinded to everything outside it.
"You'll let me stay? I shan't mind when daylight comes--Is it late? Is the night nearly over? It must be awful to be sleepless--everything stands by the bed and stares---"Miss Farish caught her straying hands. "Lily, look at me!
Something has happened--an accident? You have been frightened--what has frightened you? Tell me if you can--a word or two--so that I can help you."Lily shook her head.
"I am not frightened: that's not the word. Can you imagine looking into your glass some morning and seeing a disfigurement--some hideous change that has come to you while you slept? Well, I seem to myself like that--I can't bear to see myself in my own thoughts--I hate ugliness, you know--I've always turned from it--but I can't explain to you--you wouldn't understand."She lifted her head and her eyes fell on the clock.
"How long the night is! And I know I shan't sleep tomorrow. Some one told me my father used to lie sleepless and think of horrors.