And so they wandered back through the silent house to the old pew by
the fire; and Ah Ben, stirring up the embers and adding fresh fuel,
said:

"Although it is late, Mr. Henley, I do not feel inclined for bed; and
if you are of the same mind, should be glad of your company."

Paul was glad of an excuse to sit up, and so settled himself upon the
sofa, absorbed in meditation. The firelight flickered over their
faces and the strange pictures on the wall, and the head of Tsong
Kapa shone more plainly than ever before. The portraits on the stairs
were as weird and incomprehensible as they had appeared on the first
night of his arrival; and the old man and the girl, and their strange
life, seemed even more deeply involved in mystery than they had upon
that occasion. Paul was now beset with conflicting emotions. The
gloom of the house was more oppressive than before; and were it not
for his sudden and unaccountable affection for Dorothy, he might have
left it at once, had it not again been for the vision of splendor and
happiness just faded from his sight. He could not bear the thought of
losing forever the sensation of life and power and ecstasy just
beginning to dawn upon him, when so cruelly snatched away; and but
for Ah Ben he knew he should hope in vain for its return. Naturally,
his emotions were strong and tearing him in opposite directions. The
old man perceiving the depression of spirits into which his guest had
fallen, reminded him gently of his warning regarding the shock of
occult manifestation to those who were unprepared.

"It is not that so much," answered Paul, "as the regret I feel at
having left it all behind. When a man has only just begun to
experience the sensation of life--_of real life_--to find himself