\"Didyouseethemboth，Jorgenson？\"askedLingard。
\"Madeoutnobody。Toofar。Toodark。\"
AsamatteroffactJorgensonhadseennothing，aboutanhourbeforedaybreak，butthedistantglareoftorcheswhiletheloudshoutsofanexcitedmultitudehadreachedhimacrossthewateronlylikeafaintandtempestuousmurmur。Presentlythelightswentawayprocessionallythroughthegrovesoftreesintothearmedstockades。Thedistantglarevanishedinthefadingdarknessandthemurmursoftheinvisiblecrowdceasedsuddenlyasifcarriedoffbytheretreatingshadowofthenight。Daylightfollowedswiftly，disclosingtothesleeplessJorgensonthesolitudeoftheshoreandtheghostlyoutlinesofthefamiliarformsofgroupedtreesandscatteredhumanhabitations。Hehadwatchedthevariedcolourscomeoutinthedawn，thewidecultivatedSettlementofmanyshadesofgreen，framedfarawaybythefineblacklinesoftheforest—edgethatwasitslimitanditsprotection。
Mrs。Traversstoodagainsttherailasmotionlessasastatue。
Herfacehadlostallitsmobilityandhercheeksweredeadwhiteasifallthebloodinherbodyhadflowedbackintoherheartandhadremainedthere。Herverylipshadlosttheircolour。