lamp-light, the open windows, the white muslin curtains swaying a little
in the soft evening air, and Catherine's figure seen dimly through them.

The noise of the gate, however--of the steps on the drive--had startled
her. He saw her rise quickly from her low chair, put some work down
beside her, and move in haste to the window.

'Robert!' she cried in amazement.

'Yes,' he answered, still some yards from her, his voice coming
strangely to her out of the moonlit darkness. 'I did my errand early; I
found I could get back; and here, I am.'

She flew to the door, opened it, and felt herself caught in his arms.

'Robert, you are quite damp!' she said, fluttering and shrinking, for
all her sweet habitual gravity of manner--was it the passion of that
yearning embrace? 'Have you walked?'

'Yes. It is the dew on the common I suppose. The grass was drenched.'

'Will you have some food? They can bring back the supper directly.'

'I don't want any food now,' he said banging up his hat; I got some
lunch in town, and a cup of soup at Reading coming back. Perhaps you
will give me some tea soon--not yet.'

He came up to her, pushing back the thick disordered locks of hair from
his eyes with one hand, the other held out to her. As he came under the
light of the hall lamp she was so startled by the gray pallor of the
face that she caught hold of his outstretched hand with both hers. What
she said he never knew--her look was enough. He put his arm round her,
and as he opened the drawing-room door holding her pressed against him,
she felt the desperate agitation in him penetrating, beating against an
almost iron self-control of manner. He shut the door behind them.

'Robert! dear Robert,' she said, clinging to him--'there is bad
news,--tell me--there is something to tell me! Oh! what is it--what is
it?'

It was almost like a child's wail. His brow contracted still more
painfully.

'My darling,' he said; 'my darling--my dear, dear wife!' and he bent his
head down to her as she lay against his breast, kissing her hair with
a passion of pity, of remorse, of tenderness, which seemed to rend his
whole nature.

'Tell me--tell me--Robert!'

He guided her gently across the room, past the sofa over which her work
lay scattered, past the flower-table, now a many-colored mass of roses,
which was her especial pride, past the remains of a brick castle which
had delighted Mary's wondering eyes and mischievous fingers an hour
or two