it?" whispered a doubtful voice, and at his, "Why
it is I--the American," quickly drawing off his cap, a little hand
darted out of the darkness to pluck him swiftly within and the door
was closed to within an inch of its opening.

Then the black phantom, drawing him back among the shrubbery,
against the wall, turned with a muffled note of laughter.

"But the costume! Imagine that I--I was looking again for a Scottish
chieftain with red kilts and a feather in his cap!"

"And instead--" Ryder glanced down at his tweeds with humorous
recognition of his change of figure. Then his eyes returned to her.

"But you are the same," he murmured.

She was indeed the same. The same black street mantle, down to her
very brows. The same black veil, up to her very eyes. And the
eyes--! Their soft mysterious loveliness--the little winged tilt of
the brows!

Apparently their effect was disconcertingly the same. He was
conscious of a feeling that was far from a normal calm.

"So you were all right?" he half whispered. "Those steps, last
night, you know, made me horribly afraid for you--"

"But, yes, I am all right."

As excitement gained upon him, a constraint was falling upon her.
They were both remembering that moment, overlooked in the rush of
recognition, when they had parted in this place, when he had had the
temerity to clasp and kiss her.

Aimee was standing rigid and wary, ready for flight at the first
fear. She told herself that she had only come through pride, the
pride that insisted upon humbling his presumption. She would let him
see how bitterly he had offended.... She had only come for this, she
told herself--and to see if he had come.

If he had _not_ come! That would have dealt a sorrily humiliating
blow.

But he was here. And reassured and haughty, repeating that she was
mortally offended, her spirit alternating between pride and shame
and a delicious fear, she stood there in the shrubbery, fascinated,
like a wild, shy thing of another age.

"That was old Miriam," she explained constrainedly. "My father had
come in--with unexpectedness."

"Lord, it was lucky you were back!"

"Yes, it was--lucky," she assented. "If it had been half an hour
before--"

She broke off. There came to the young man a sobering perception of
the risk she ran, of the supreme folly of this escapade to which
they were entrusting themselves.

It was a realization that deserved some consideration. But,
obstinately, with young ca