d, Mr. Layard," she said, "that we might have parted friends; but
how can we when you bring such accusations?"

"I retract them," broke in the distracted man. "You mustn't think
anything of what I said; it is only the pain that has made me mad. For
God's sake, at least let us part friends, for then, perhaps, some day we
may come together again."

Stella shook her head sadly, and gave him her hand, which he covered
with kisses. Then, reeling in his gait like one drunken, the unhappy
suitor departed into the falling snow.

Mechanically Stella switched on the instrument, and at once Morris's
voice was heard asking:

"I say, hasn't he gone?"

"Yes," she said.

"Thank goodness! Why on earth did you keep him gossiping all that time?
Now then--'Who can number the clouds in wisdom----'"

"Not Mr. Layard or I," thought Stella sadly to herself, as she called
back the answering verse.

CHAPTER XIII

TWO QUESTIONS, AND THE ANSWER

At length the light began to fade, and for that day their experiments
were over. In token of their conclusion twice Stella rang the electric
warning bell which was attached to the aerophone, and in some mysterious
manner caused the bell of its twin instrument to ring also. Then she
packed the apparatus in its box, for, with its batteries, it was too
heavy and too delicate to be carried conveniently, locking it up, and
left the church, which she also locked behind her. Outside it was still
snowing fast, but softly, for the wind had dropped, and a sharp frost
was setting in, causing the fallen snow to scrunch beneath her feet.
About half-way along the bleak line of deserted cliff which stretched
from the Dead Church to the first houses of Monksland, she saw the
figure of a man walking swiftly towards her, and knew from the bent
head and broad, slightly stooping shoulders that it was Morris coming to
escort her home. Presently they met.

"Why did you not wait for me?" he asked in an irritated voice, "I told
you I was coming, and you know that I do not like you to be tramping
about these lonely cliffs at this hour."

"It is very kind of you," she answered, smiling that slow, soft smile
which was characteristic of her when she was pleased, a smile that
seemed to be born in her beautiful eyes and thence to irradiate her
whole face; "but it was growing dreary and cold there, so I thought that
I would start."

"Yes," he answered, "I forgot, and, what is more, it is very selfish of
me to keep