ly toward Cecily.
The clouds covered the moon again, and there was no more on the
Fillingford road than a black blotch on the deep gray of the night; even
this vanished a moment after. And still Cecily gazed down into the
Blent.

Presently she turned round. "I suppose we must go in," she said
grudgingly. "It's getting rather chilly." They were both in low-cut
frocks, and had come out without any wraps. With the intuition of a born
schemer Mina seized on the chance.

"Oh, it's so lovely!" she cried, with an apparently overwhelming
enthusiasm for nature. "Too perfectly lovely! I'll run in and get some
cloaks. Wait here till I come back, Cecily."

"Well, don't be long," said Cecily, crossing her bare arms with a little
shiver.

Off the Imp ran, and vanished into the house. But she made no search for
wraps. After a moment's hesitation in the hall, the deceitful creature
ran into the library. All was dark there; a window was open and showed
the bridge, with Cecily's figure on it making a white blur in the
darkness. Mina crouched on the window-sill and waited. The absolute
unpardonableness of her conduct occurred to her; with a smile she
dismissed the consideration. He--and she--who desires the end must needs
put up with the means; it is all the easier when the means happen to be
uncommonly thrilling.

Harry was humbled! That was the conclusion which shot through her mind.
What else could his coming mean? If it meant less than that, it was mere
cruelty. If it meant that---- A keen pang of disappointment shot through
her. It was the only way to what she desired, but it was not the way
which she would have preferred him to tread. Yet because it was the only
way, she wished it--with the reservation that it would have been much
better if it could have happened in some other fashion. But anyhow the
position, not to say her position, had every element of excitement.
"Poor old Mr Neeld!" she murmured once. It was hard on him to miss this.
At the moment Neeld was smiling over the ignorance in which he had been
bound to keep her. It is never safe to suppose, however pleasant it may
be to believe, that nobody is pitying us; either of his knowledge or of
his ignorance someone is always at it.

She started violently and turned round. The butler was there, candle in
hand.

"Is her Ladyship still out, ma'am?" he asked, advancing. "I was going to
lock up." He was hardly surprised to find her--they knew she was
odd--and would not h