"But it has not come, Dad."

"I hope not," said Mr. Stone. "I wish to end my book first."

The sudden grim coherence of his last two sayings terrified Bianca more
than all his feverish, utterances.

"I rely on your sitting quite still," she said, "while I go and find
her." And with a feeling in her heart as though two hands had seized and
were pulling it asunder, she went out.

Some half-hour later Hilary slipped quietly in, and stood watching at
the door. Mr. Stone, seated on the very verge of his armchair, with his
hands on its arms, was slowly rising to his feet, and slowly falling
back again, not once, but many times, practising a standing posture. As
Hilary came into his line of sight, he said:

"I have succeeded twice."

"I am very glad," said Hilary. "Won't you rest now, sir?"

"It is my knees," said Mr. Stone. "She has gone to find her."

Hilary heard those words with bewilderment, and, sitting down on the
other chair, waited.

"I have fancied," said Mr. Stone, looking at him wistfully, "that when
we pass away from life we may become the wind. Is that your opinion?"