The silence awoke to the low hum of insects.

Venters watched the immovable white face, and as he watched, hour by hour waiting for death, the infamy of her passed from his mind.

He thought only of the sadness, the truth of the moment.

Whoever she was--whatever she had done--she was young and she was dying.
The after-part of the night wore on interminably.

The starlight failed and the gloom blackened to the darkest hour.