reproachfully at me as I took my seat. From the sudden silence directly
I entered, I imagined they had been talking of me, and I made my excuses
with a momentary nervousness. There was something unusual in the air. It
seemed to me that Lady St. Maurice was regarding me with a new and
kindly interest. She said nothing, as I had dreaded she would, of my
long absence from the house, and Lord St. Maurice, with a courtesy
unusual even for him, rose when I entered, and motioning the butler
away, himself held my chair. What did it all mean? At another time I
might have wondered more, but just then there were other thoughts in my
mind. Should I have an opportunity to commit my crime that night? I
feared not.

I gave no one any chance for sentimental conversation during dinner
time, for I talked more than usual, and in a lighter vein. I wanted
nothing said which could bring back to my memory that wild scene on the
cliffs, or the hours of agony which I had been through. All such things
were of the past. I desired to be able to look back upon them as upon
some strange night-dream--fair enough of itself, but gone with the first
breath of morning. To my relief, the others, too, avoided the subject.
There was nothing said about Lord Lumley's escape which even bordered
upon the pathetic.

Dinner, which seemed to me to last longer than usual, came to an end at
last. I had planned to make some excuse to the Countess, and leave the
drawing-room before Lord Lumley could follow, but, as I had half
expected that he might, Lord Lumley accompanied us there without waiting
to smoke. To my surprise, Lady St. Maurice, before I could frame an
excuse to her for my own departure, left us alone. Lord Lumley held the
door open for her, and it seemed to me that a meaning glance passed
between them. It was beyond my understanding. I could only see that my
plans were frustrated, and that I must prepare for another struggle.

He shut the door carefully, and then came back and stood over me. I
looked at him calmly. How could he read the agony in my heart.

"I am waiting for my answer, Margharita!" he said simply.

"You have had the only answer which I can ever give you, Lord Lumley! I
answered--'No!'"

Then he did a thing which sounds very absurd, but which did not indeed
seem so. He sank on one knee and took possession of my hand. I was on a
low chair, and his face now was on a level with mine.

"Margharita, my love," he whispered, "'no' is an an