But he also realized that to explain a
phenomenon is not to explain it away. The man who analyses his emotions
cannot wholly escape them, and the shadow of fear--primal, inexplicable
fear--may darken at moments of weakness the life of the subtlest
psychologist and the clearest thinker.
He had never spoken to Reginald of his terrible nightmares. Coming on
the heel of the fancy that he, Ernest, had written "The Princess With
the Yellow Veil," a fancy that, by the way, had again possessed him of
late, this new delusion would certainly arouse suspicion as to his
sanity in Reginald's mind. He would probably send him to a sanitarium;
he certainly would not keep him in the house. Beneficence itself in all
other things, his host was not to be trifled with in any matter that
interfered with his work. He would act swiftly and without mercy.
For the first time in many days Ernest thought of Abel Felton. Poor boy!
What had become of him after he had been turned from the house? He would
not wait for any one to tell him to pack his bundle.
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