them toward the barn,
leaving the patroon and his companion alone on the broad portico.
Sweeping from a distant grove of slender poplars and snowy birch a
breeze bore down upon them, suddenly bleak and frosty, and she
shivered in the nipping air.

"You are chilled!" he cried. "If you would but go into the house while
we are waiting! Indeed, if you do not, I shall wonder how I have
offended you! It will be something to remember"--half lightly, half
seriously--"that you have crossed my threshold!"

He stood at the door, with such an undissembled smile, his accents so
regretful, that after a moment's hesitation, Constance entered,
followed by the patroon. Sweeping aside the heavy draperies from the
window, he permitted the golden shafts of the ebbing day to enter the
hall, gleaming on the polished floors, the wainscoting and the
furniture, faintly illuminating the faded pictures and weirdly
revealing the turnings of the massive stairway. No wonder a
half-shudder of apprehension seized the young actress in spite of her
self-reliance and courage, as she entered the solemn and mournful
place, where past grandeur offered nothing save morbid memories and
where the frailty of existence was significantly written! After that
Indian summer day the sun was sinking, angry and fiery, as though
presaging a speedy reform in the vagaries of the season and an
immediate return to the legitimate surroundings of October.

Involuntarily the girl moved to the window, where the light rested on
her brown tresses, and as Mauville watched that radiance, shifting and
changing, her hair alight with mystic color, the passion that had
prompted him to this end was stirred anew, dissipating any intrusive
doubts. The veering and flickering sheen seemed but a web of
entangling irradiation. A span of silence became an interminable
period to her, with no sight of fresh horses nor sign of preparation
for the home journey.

"What takes him so long?" she said, finally, with impatience. "It is
getting so late!"

"It is late," he answered. "Almost too late to go on! You are weary
and worn. Why not rest here to-night?"

"Rest here?" she repeated, with a start of surprise.

"You are not fit to drive farther. To-morrow we can return."

"To-morrow!" she cried. "But--what do you mean?"

"That I must insist upon your sparing yourself!" he said, firmly,
although a red spot flushed his cheek.

"No; no! We must leave at once!" she answered.

He smiled reas