Caius sat still, wrapped in his blankets.
He bowed his head upon his knees.

The darkness was only the physical part of the blackness that closed over his spirit.

There was only one light in this blackness--that was Josephine's face.

Calm he saw it, touched with the look of devotion or mercy; laughing and dimpled he saw it, a thing at one with the sunshine and all the joy of earth; and then he saw it change, and grow pale with fear, and repulsion, and disgust.
Around this one face, that carried light with it, there were horrid shapes and sounds in the blackness of his mind.

He had been a good man; he had preferred good to evil: had it all been a farce?
Was the thing that he was being driven to do now a thing of satanic prompting, and he himself corrupt--all the goodness which he had thought to be himself only an organism, fair outside, that rotted inwardly?
Or was this fear the result of false teaching, the prompting of an artificial conscience, and was the thing he wished to do the wholesome and natural course to take--right in the sight of such Deity as might be beyond the curtain of the unknown, the Force who had set the natural laws of being in motion?
Caius did not know.