Maria here to undress you? I'll send her."

"Not just now, father. She will come presently. Her chattering wearied
me and I sent her away."

"Well! good-night again, my girl. God bless you. You will not see
Nicolaes?"

"Not to-night, father. Tell him I am not well. Good-night."

Mynheer Beresteyn went away at last, not before Gilda feared that she
must drop or faint under the stress of this nerve-racking situation.

Even now when at last she was alone, when once again she was able to
close and bolt the door, she could scarcely stand. She leaned against
the wall with eyes closed, and heart that beat so furiously and so fast
that she thought she must choke.

The sound of her father's footsteps died away along the corridor. She
heard him opening and shutting a door at the further end of the passage,
where there were two or three living rooms and his own sleeping chamber.
For awhile now the house was still, so still that she could almost hear
those furious heart-beats beneath her gown. Then only did she dare to
move. With noiseless steps she crossed the room to that recess in the
wall hidden by the gay-flowered cotton curtains.

She paused close beside these.

"My lord!" she called softly.

No answer.

"My lord! my father has gone! you are in no danger for the moment!"

Still no answer, and as she paused, straining her ears to listen, she
caught the sound of slow and regular breathing. Going back to the table
she took up the candle, then with it in her hand she returned to the
recess and gently drew aside the curtain. The light from the candle fell
full upon Stoutenburg's face. Inexpressibly weary, exhausted both bodily
and mentally, not even the imminence of present danger had succeeded in
keeping him awake. The moment that he felt the downy pillow under his
head, he had dropped off to sleep as peacefully as he used to do years
ago before the shadow of premeditated crime had left its impress on his
wan face.

Gilda looking down on him sought in vain in the harsh and haggard
features, the traces of those boyish good looks which had fascinated her
years ago; she tried in vain to read on those thin, set lips those words
of passionate affection which had so readily flown from them then.

She put down the candle again and drew a chair close to the bed, then
she sat down and waited.

And he slept on calmly, watched over by the woman whom he had so
heartlessly betrayed. All love for him had died out in her heart