beyond which lay the green
fields, the wind-swept sky, and the livid line of the sea; then
suddenly she turned, and fled through the open door and out into the
empty corridor.

Asshlin was still standing in the hall, as she came downstairs; at the
sound of her approach he looked up, but in the falling twilight he
noticed nothing unusual in her appearance.

"We've made a great illumination!" he said--"quite a blaze of light!"

Clodagh made no answer; but descending the stairs quickly, passed into
the dining-room.

As on the night years ago, when Milbanke had come to Orristown, the old
room was prepared to do honour to a guest. The tablecloth was laid,
places were set for two, and the great silver sconces were filled with
candles that glowed so brightly that even the dark portraits on the
walls were thrown into relief. But no fire blazed in the wide grate as
on the former occasion, and the curtains of the three long windows were
drawn back, admitting the light from the stormy evening sky.

Clodagh's first glance, as she entered the room, was for these windows,
and her first words concerned them.

"Larry, draw the curtains!" she said.

To her own ears, her voice seemed to come from some distant place--to
sound infinitely thin and far away; but Asshlin seemed to observe
nothing. He went forward obediently and drew the six long curtains.

As the last was pulled into place Burke entered, and carefully laid two
dishes upon the table. A moment later Clodagh took her seat.

"What will you eat, Larry?" she said hurriedly. "Chicken? Ham?"

Asshlin turned to her, as he in his turn took his place.

"What will _you_ have?" he said.

"I? Oh--anything! But talk, Larry! Tell me things! Let's--let's be
gay!"

Asshlin was busy cutting up the chicken. He did not hear the faintly
hysterical note that underran her voice--the note of warning from a
mind trying with panic-stricken haste to evade itself.

He helped her to some chicken; and Burke, laying the plate before her,
went in search of wine.

She toyed for a moment or two with the food, making pretence to eat.

At last Larry looked at her.

"You're eating nothing. Aren't you hungry?"

She started nervously.

"No; I'm not hungry. I--I had a glass of milk in my room. I couldn't
wait for dinner." She tried to laugh, as she told the falsehood.

He accepted the explanation.

"Then you must have a glass of wine now!" he said genially, as Burke
re-entered with a dusty