look forth upon the night, and smell the sweet night air.

She had been unusually well that day, and on her face now filling out
once more into its old soft oval, bloomed again a look of warm life
and youth. Unsuspecting, unthinking Sir Adrian obeyed. It was a dim,
close night, and the blush-roses nodded palely into the room from the
outer darkness as he raised the sash. There was no moon, no stars
shone in the mist hung sky; there was no light to be seen anywhere
except one faint glimmer in the distance--the light upon Scarthey
Island.

"Is that a star?" said Molly, after a moment's dreamy silence.

Sir Adrian started. A vision of all that might hang upon his answer
flashed through his brain. With a trembling hand he pulled the
curtain. It was too late.

Molly sat up in bed, with a contracted brow and hands outstretched as
one who would seize a tantalising escaping memory.

"I used to watch it then, at night, from this window," she whispered.
"What was it? The light of Scarthey?" Then suddenly, with a scream;
"The light of Scarthey!"

Adrian sprang to her side but she turned from him, shrank from him,
with a look of dread which seared him to the soul.

"Do not come near me, do not touch me," she cried.

And then he left her.

* * * * *

Miss O'Donoghue was gone upon her journey with Madeleine. There was
none in whom he might confide, with whom seek counsel. But presently,
listening outside the door in an agony of suspense, he heard a storm
of sobs. In time these gradually subsided; and later he learnt from
Moggie, whom he had hurriedly ordered to her mistress's side, that his
wife was quiet and seemed inclined to rest.

On the next day, she expressed no desire to see him and he dared not
go to her unsought. He gathered a great dewy bunch of roses and had
them brought to her upon her breakfast tray instead of bringing them
himself as had been his wont.

She had taken the roses, Moggie told him, and laid them to her cheek.
"The master sent them, said I," continued the sturdy little matron,
who was far from possessing the instinctive tact of her spouse; "an'
she get agate o'crying quiet like and let the flowers fall out of her
hands on the bed--Eh, what ever's coom to her, sin yesterday? Wannut
you go in, sir?"

"Not unless she sends for me," said Sir Adrian hastily. "And remember,
Moggie, do not speak my name to her. She must not be worried or
distressed. But if she sends