Since he took leave of Thyrza, he had not known one moment of calm.

When passion was merciful for a time, fear had taken its turn to torment him.

It had not availed to demonstrate to himself that fear _must_ be groundless.

Love from of old has had a comrade superstition; if he awoke from a wretched dream, he interpreted it as sympathy with Thyrza in some dreadful trial.

And behold! he had been right.