bbens's voice calling loudly for the stable-man. Even then
there was time to escape. Emmet had only to pay his bill and slip
quickly out the side door as his enemy entered at the front. Lena too
saw the chance and started from her chair, her eyes fixed upon his with
instinctive questioning and submission, all her high resolves forgotten
in the actual crisis. Their respective attitudes at that moment were
singularly characteristic. She was now poised for instant flight, with
something of the air of a creature of the wild whose safety lies in
speed of wing or foot; he, who had thought to steal away unobserved,
now threw the thought contemptuously aside. A dull glow of anger
spread slowly over his handsome features, and his jaw grew rigid.

"Sit down, Lena," he said peremptorily. "Sit down."

She sank into her chair again, grasping the arms with her thin, white
fingers.

"What's the matter with your supper?" he asked with a short laugh.
"Have you lost your appetite?"

She took up her spoon once more, but her hand trembled, and she was
forced to steady it against the table.

Cobbens entered the door, throwing back his great-coat and tugging at
his gloves, to meet Emmet's slow turn of the head and forbidding stare.
It was the look of one who feels himself intruded upon and waits in no
very amiable mood for an apology. The rest of the party followed, six
in all, and Emmet recognised Mrs. Parr, Felicity's neighbour and
friend, among them. The worst had come to pass. Of Cobbens's malice
there could be no doubt, but in all probability he had not observed
Lena in the bishop's house during her short stay there before her
mistress's departure. Mrs. Parr, however, was in and out daily; and
what more choice bit of gossip could she write to her friend than an
account of this unexpected meeting? If there was any momentary doubt
in his mind, it was dispelled by her action. One sharp look told her
all she wished to know; then she turned her back upon her friend's
servant and the mayor of Warwick with ostentatious indifference,
holding out her hands to the blaze and chatting of the inclemency of
the weather. The others followed her example, closing in about the
fire, as if utterly unconscious of the two of whose presence they were
in reality so acutely aware. Cobbens alone chose a different course.

"Ah, Emmet," he said, with easy familiarity, and in a tone that
displayed a distinct relish for the situation, "I did n'