And then, grim, stern, she put her intellect upon it. She went over
everything he had said that afternoon. Each thought of it opened up new
channels, and she followed them all to their uttermost. And in that
getting of it in hand there was more than insight, knowledge, conviction.
There was a complete sensing of the truth, a comprehending of things just
without the pale of reason.
Her face pale, her eyes looking into that far distance, she sat there for
more than an hour, oblivious for the first time since his blindness to
the thought that Karl might be needing her, lost to all conventional
instincts as hostess. Hard and fast the thoughts beat upon her, and then
at last in the wake of those thoughts, out beyond, there was born a great
light. It staggered her at first; it seemed a light too great for human
mind to bear. But time passed, and the light burned on, steady, fixed,
not to pass away. And in that momentous hour which words are quite
powerless to record, something was buried, and something born.
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