He spent the heat of noon in thoughtful solitude, and gradually the image of Viola returned to his heart.

It was a holy--for it was a HUMAN--image.

He had resigned her; and though he repented not, he was troubled at the thought that repentance would have come too late.
He started impatiently from his seat, and strode with rapid steps to the humble abode of the actress.
The distance was considerable, and the air oppressive.

Glyndon arrived at the door breathless and heated.

He knocked; no answer came.