y, perhaps,
and later at Bracondale. He had a great position, and people soon forget
nowadays.

His pulses were bounding with these wild thoughts, born of their
nearness and the long hours of strain. To-morrow he would tell her of
them, but to-night--they would dance.

And Theodora felt her very soul melt within her. She was worn out with
conflicting emotions. She could not fight with inclination any longer.
Whatever he should say she would have to listen to--and agree with. She
felt almost faint. And so at the end of the first dance she managed to
whisper:

"Hector, I am tired. I shall go to bed." And in truth when he looked at
her she was deadly white.

She stopped by her husband.

"Josiah," she said, "will you make my excuses to Lady Ada and Uncle
Patrick? I do not feel well; I am going to my room."

Hector's distress was intense. He could not carry her up in his arms as
he would have wished, he could not soothe and pet and caress her, or do
anything in the world but stand by and see Josiah fussing and
accompanying her to the stairs and on to her room. She hardly said the
word good-night to him, and her very lips were white. Wensleydown's
face, as he stood with Mildred, drove him mad with its mocking leer, and
if he had heard their conversation there might have been bloodshed.

Josiah returned to the saloon, and made his way to the bridge-room to
Sir Patrick and his hostess; but Hector still leaned against the door.

"He'll probably go out on the terrace and walk in the night by himself,"
thought the Crow, who had watched the scene, "and these dear people
will say he has gone to meet her, and it is a ruse her being ill. They
could not let such a chance slip, if they are both absent together."

So he walked over to Hector and engaged him in conversation.

Hector would have thought of this aspect himself at another time, but
to-night he was dazed with passion and pain.

"Come and smoke a cigar on the terrace, Crow," he said. "One wants a
little quiet and peace sometimes."

And then the Crow looked at him with his head on one side in that wise
way which had earned for him his sobriquet.

"Hector, old boy, you know these damned people here and their ways. Just
keep yourself in evidence, my son," he said, as he walked away.

And Hector thanked him in his heart, and went across and asked Morella
to dance.

Up in her room Theodora lay prostrate. She could reason no more--she
could only sob in the dark.