as lighted too. There, doubtless, Lady Tristram lay slowly
dying; somewhere else in the house Harry was keeping his guard and
perfecting his defences. The absolute peace and rest of the outward
view, the sleepless vigilance and unceasing battle within, a battle that
death made keener and could not lull to rest--this contrast came upon
Mina with a strange painfulness; her eyes filled with tears as she stood
looking.

A man came out into the garden and lit a cigar; she knew it was Harry;
she did not move. He sauntered toward the bridge; she held her ground;
though he should strike her, she would have speech with him to-night. He
was by the bridge and had his hand on the gate at the Blent end of it
before he saw her. He stood still a moment, then came to her side, and
leant as she was leaning over the parapet. He was bare-headed--she saw
his thick hair and his peaked forehead; he smoked steadily; he showed no
surprise at seeing her, and he did not speak to her for a long time. At
last, still without looking at her, he began. She could just make out
his smile, or thought she could; at any rate she was sure it was there.

"Well, Mina de Kries?" said he. She started a little. "Oh, I don't
believe in the late Zabriska; I don't believe you're grown up; I think
you're about fifteen--a beastly age." He put his cigar back in his
mouth.

"You see that window?" he resumed in a moment. "And you know what's
happening behind it? My mother's dying there. Well, how's the Major? Has
he got that trick in better order yet?"

She found her tongue with difficulty.

"Does Lady Tristram know about--about me?" she stammered.

"I sometimes lie to my mother," said Harry, flicking his ash into the
river. "Why do you lie to your uncle, though?"

"I didn't lie. You know I didn't lie."

He shrugged his shoulders wearily and relapsed into silence. Silence
there was till, a minute or two later, it was broken by a little sob
from Mina Zabriska. He turned his head toward her; then he took hold of
her arm and twisted her face round to him. The tears were running down
her cheeks.

"I'm so, so sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to; and I did it! And
now--now I can't stop it. You needn't believe me if you don't like, but
I'm--I'm miserable and--and frightened."

He flung his cigar into the water and put his hands in his pockets. So
he stood watching her, his body swaying a little to and fro; his eyes
were suspicious of her, yet they seemed amuse