consent stood back in the shadows and let Eliza repossess the flesh to which she had given life.
And Eliza, now that he could deny her no longer, now that his fierce bright eyes could no longer turn from her in pain and aversion, sat near his head beside him, clutching his cold hand between her rough worn palms.
She did not seem conscious of the life around her. She seemed under a powerful hypnosis: she sat very stiff and erect in her chair, her white face set stonily, her dull black eyes fixed upon the gray cold face.
They sat waiting. Midnight came. A cock crew. Eugene went quietly to a window and stood looking out. The great beast of night prowled softly about the house. The walls, the windows seemed to bend inward from the thrusting pressure of the dark. The low noise in the wasted body seemed almost to have stopped. It came infrequently, almost inaudibly, with a faint fluttering respiration.
Helen made a sign to Gant and Luke. They rose and went quietly out. At the door she paused, and beckoned to Eugene. He went to her.
“You stay here with her,” she said. “You’re her youngest. When it’s over come and tell us.”
He nodded, and closed the door behind her. When they had gone, he waited, listening for a moment. Then he went to where Eliza was sitting. He bent over her.
“Mama!” he whispered. “Mama!”
She gave no sign that she had heard him. Her face did not move; she did not turn her eyes from their fixed stare.
“Mama!” he said more loudly. “Mama!”
He touched her. She made no response.
“Mama! Mama!”
She sat there stiffly and primly like a little child.
Swarming pity rose in him. Gently, desperately, he tried to detach her fingers from Ben’s hand. Her rough clasp on the cold hand tightened. Then, slowly, stonily, from right to left, without expression, she shook her head.
He fell back, beaten, weeping, before that implacable gesture. Suddenly, with horror, he saw that she was watching her own death,
