g the road past the garden-gate; a rapid
glance assured her that no one was there; she hastily opened the gate
and slipped in. She knew that the windows of the sick-room were closed
on the inner side, and the blinds were still down. The patient,
therefore, had not yet been disturbed or visited. The windows of the
dining-room were on the other side of the house. The woman therefore
slipped round to the back, where she found, as she expected, the door
wide open. In the hall she heard the voices of the doctor and Lord
Harry and the clicking of knives and forks. They were at breakfast.

One thing more--What should she say to Oxbye? What excuse should she
make for coming back? How should she persuade him to keep silence about
her presence? His passion suggested a plan and a reason. She had come
back, she would tell him, for love of him, to watch over him, unseen by
the doctor, to go away with him when he was strong enough to travel. He
was a simple and a candid soul, and he would fall into such a little
innocent conspiracy. Meantime, it would be quite easy for her to remain
in the house perfectly undisturbed and unknown to either of the
gentlemen.

She opened the door and looked in.

So far, no reason would be wanted. The patient was sleeping peacefully.
But not in the bed. He was lying, partly dressed and covered with a
blanket, on the sofa. With the restlessness of convalescence he had
changed his couch in the morning after a wakeful night, and was now
sleeping far into the morning.

The bed, as is common in French houses, stood in an alcove. A heavy
curtain hung over a rod, also in the French manner. Part of this
curtain lay over the head of the bed.

The woman perceived the possibility of using the curtain as a means of
concealment. There was a space of a foot between the bed and the wall.
She placed herself, therefore, behind the bed, in this space, at the
head, where the curtain entirely concealed her. Nothing was more
unlikely than that the doctor should look behind the bed in that
corner. Then with her scissors she pierced a hole in the curtain large
enough for her to see perfectly without the least danger of being seen,
and she waited to see what would happen.

She waited for half an hour, during which the sleeping man slept on
without movement, and the voices of the two men in the _salle 'a
manger_ rose and fell in conversation. Presently there was silence,
broken only by an occasional remark. "They have lit