There arose before me, clearly as a painted picture, the pleading face of her I loved.

I knew that to no other was she looking for aid in her despair.

There might be little I could accomplish for her succor, yet it would bring her new courage even to exchange a brief word with some faithful friend, as proof that she was not forgotten.

Besides, I longed, as no expression can make clear, to gaze again, if only for an instant, into her clear gray eyes, to listen to the gentle murmur of her trustful voice.

In brief, I was in the mood for a desperate venture.
I crept to the open door, peering cautiously forth into the darkness.
It was a heavy night, the little basin was wrapped in shadow, and not even a star peeped forth from the rifts of low-scudding clouds.