CHAPTER XLIV.
SQUARING ACCOUNTS.
The summer storm had spent itself by daylight, and the sun rose on that morning after the world's end much as it had risen on other mornings, but it looked down upon prostrate trees and scattered fences and roofless barns.

And the minds of the people were in much the same disheveled state as the landscape.

One simple-minded girl was a maniac.
Some declared that the world had ended, and that this was the new earth, if people only had faith to receive it; some still waited for the end, and with some the reaction from credulity had already set in, a reaction that carried them into the blankest atheism and boldest immorality.
People who had spent the summer in looking for a change that would relieve them from all responsibility, now turned reluctantly toward the commonplace drudgery of life.

It is the evil of all day-dreaming--day-dreaming about the other world included--that it unfits us for duty in this world of tangible and inevitable facts.
It was nearly daylight when Andrew and August and Julia reached the castle.

The Philosopher advised Julia to go home, and for the present to let the marriage be as though it were not.