ult moment had come. "I hope to goodness none of the servants
are awake," she thought...

Reaching the top of the staircase she heard them whispering in the
hall. It seemed that they were going out brazenly by the front door,
and since it seemed to her that to follow them closely would be
dangerous she herself hastened round to the back staircase and let
herself out of the house by a side door set in an angle of the building
that sheltered her.

An eastward drift of cloud came over, hiding the moon, and she was glad
of this, for the crude moonlight had put her to shame by its
brilliance. She wondered to see the clouds moving so fast, for in the
garden not a tree stirred but one aspen that made a sound as of gentle
rain. She heard the grating of their feet on the drive, and then, by
the sudden cessation of this sound, guessed that they had stepped on to
the lawn. Arthur's low voice came to her clearly. "He's stopped
singing, but I think he'll sing again," and from Gabrielle a whispered
"Yes."

Mrs. Payne could scarcely be certain of the words she heard: she knew
that she ought in some way to get nearer to them, but the expanse of
dewy turf by which they were surrounded made it impossible for her to
approach without being seen. Very cautiously she cut across to the
left and into the shelter of the privet hedge, along which she stole
until she reached their level.

They stood together in the middle of the lawn without speaking. At
last Gabrielle shivered. Arthur noticed it quickly. "I hope you're
not cold," he said.

"No, I'm not cold--only--only we're so exposed out here. If we could
get a little more into the shadow I should feel more comfortable----"

"That's easily managed," he said laughing. "We can go over by the
sundial. It's called a yew-parlour, I think. It might have been made
for us."

So they passed into its shade. Mrs. Payne noticed eagerly that his
hand was not on her arm. The yew hedge that now sheltered them
concealed her also from their sight, and, greatly relieved, she crept
along her cover of privet into the shadow of a mulberry tree where, by
stooping a little, she could watch them unperceived.

"What a wonderful night," Gabrielle whispered.

"I never knew such a night," he said. "It feels a bit like that
evening when we stood leaning over the bridge by the lake."

"Don't," she said. "I want to forget it. Can you smell the dew?"

"Yes, and the scent of may coming over fr