uld prefer to be out-of-doors. Vere loved the garden. Or they might be
on the terrace.

She stepped into the hall and went to the servants' staircase. Now she
herd voices, a laugh.

"Giulia!" she called.

The voices stopped talking, but it was Gaspare who came in answer to her
call. She looked down to him.

"Don't come up, Gaspare. Where is the Signorina?"

"The Signorina is on the terrace, Signora--with Don Emilio."

He looked up at her very seriously in the gloom. She thought of the
meeting at the Festa, and longed to wring from Gaspare his secret.

"Don Emilio is here?"

"Si, Signora."

"How long ago did he come?"

"About half an hour, I think, Signora."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Don Emilio told me not to bother you, Signora--that he would just sit
and wait."

"I see. And the Signorina?"

"I did not tell her, either. She was in the garden alone, but I
have heard her talking on the terrace with the Signore. Are you ill,
Signora?"

"No. All right, Gaspare!"

She moved away. His large, staring eyes followed her till she
disappeared in the passage. The passage was not long, but it seemed to
Hermione as if a multitude of impressions, of thoughts, of fears, of
determinations rushed through her heart and brain while she walked down
it and into the room that opened to the terrace. This room was dark.

As she entered it she expected to hear the voices from outside. But she
heard nothing.

They were not on the terrace, then!

She again stood still. Her heart was beating violently, and she felt
violent all over, thrilling with violence like one on the edge of some
outburst.

She looked towards the French window. Through its high space she saw the
wan night outside, a sort of thin paleness resting against the blackness
in which she was hidden. And as her eyes became accustomed to their
environment she perceived that the pallor without was impinged upon by
two shadowy darknesses. Very faint they were, scarcely relieved against
the night, very still and dumb--two shadowy darknesses, Emile and Vere
sitting together in silence.

When Hermione understood this she remained where she was, trying to
subdue even her breathing. Why were they not talking? What did this
mutual silence, this mutual immobility mean? She was only a few feet
from them. Yet she could not hear a human sound, even the slightest.
There was something unnatural, but also tremendously impressive to
her in their silence. She felt as if