have moved for an hour.

She obeyed her strong first impulse, and rose and went to her.

She laid her hand on her shoulder, and shook her gently.

"Beck!" she demanded, "what are you doing?"

When the girl turned slowly round, she started sit the sight of her
cold, miserable pallor.

"I am doing nothing--nothing," she answered. "Why did you get up? It's a
fine night, isn't it?"

Despite her discretion, Miss Thorne broke down into a blunder.

"You--you never look like this in the daytime!" she exclaimed.

"No," was the reply given with cool deliberateness. "No; I would rather
_die_."

For the moment she was fairly incomprehensible. There was in the set of
her eye and the expression of her fair, clear face, the least hint of
dogged obstinacy.

"Beck "--she began.

"You ought not to have got up," said Beck. "It is enough to look 'like
this' at night when I am by myself. Go back to bed, if you please."

Miss Thorne went back to bed meekly. She was at once alarmed and
subdued. She felt as if she had had a puzzling interview with a
stranger.

In these days Lennox regarded his model with morbid interest. A subtle
change was perceptible in her. Her rich color deepened, she held herself
more erect, her eye had a larger pride and light. She was a finer
creature than ever, and yet--she came at his call. He never ceased to
wonder at it. Sometimes the knowledge of his power stirred within him a
vast impatience; sometimes he was hardened by it; but somehow it never
touched him, though he was thrown into tumult--bound against his will.
He could not say that he understood her. Her very passiveness baffled
him and caused him to ask himself what it meant. She spoke little,
and her emotional phases seemed reluctant, but her motionless face and
slowly raised eye always held a meaning of their own.

On an occasion when he mentioned his approaching departure, she started
as if she had received a blow, and he turned to see her redden and pale
alternately, her face full of alarm.

"What is the matter?" he asked brusquely.

"I--hadn't bin thinkin' on it," she stammered. "I'd kinder forgot."

He turned to his easel again and painted rapidly for a few minutes. Then
he felt a light touch on his arm. She had left her seat noiselessly and
stood beside him. She gave him a passionate, protesting look. A fire of
excitement seemed to have sprung up within her and given her a defiant
daring.

"D'ye think I'll stay here--when ye're