reath on her cheek, his mouth was pressed against hers, her
fingers knew again the stuff of his coat and the back of her hand had
touched his neck....

And yet, it was at this moment, with those very memories crowding about
her, that she knew definitely and with absolute assurance, that it was
Roddy, and Roddy only in all the world, whom she now loved.

Her passion for Breton had been a passion of rebellion, of discontent--a
moment perhaps in her education that carried her from one stage to
another.

She loved Roddy. She could not trace the steps by which her love had
grown, but affection had first been changed into something stronger on
that day when he had been carried back into his house from whose gates
he had passed, that morning, so strong and sure. Pity had been the
beginning of it, admiration of his courage had continued it, this moment
of this stormy night had struck it into flame--

And now, perhaps, in another day or so, she would learn that he had done
with her for ever.

She sat there, huddled, trembling, her eyes burning, her throat dry.

Oh! why wouldn't the carriage go faster! If only this storm would come
and that terrible sky would break! She knew that Mrs. Rand and Daisy
were away in the country and Lizzie went out very seldom. She would find
her. She _must_ find her. She shuddered to think what she might do were
Lizzie not at home.

They were there. Yes, Miss Rand was at home: Rachel went in.

Lizzie was sitting quietly by the open window, reading. She looked up
and saw Rachel in a dress of black and gold, her face very pale, as she
stood there in the doorway.

"Lizzie dear--Lizzie." Rachel flung off her cloak, stood for a moment
motionless, then without another word, huddled up on to the sofa and,
her face buried in her arm, began to cry. Lizzie came across to her,
took her hand, and sat there without speaking.

After a long time she said, "Rachel dear. What is it?"

Rachel clung to her, holding her fiercely. At last, looking up but away
from Lizzie, she said, "Oh! if you hadn't been here. I don't know--I
simply don't know what--I think it's this night. This awful night. It's
so close and the storm is so long coming."

"Has anything particular happened?"

"Yes. The Duchess has told Roddy about--about Francis--or I think she
has. Roddy's said nothing to me, but I ought to speak to him, to tell
him.... I've put it off."

Lizzie said softly. "You must tell him, Rachel. You know that yo