er things and went out to see what resolve the
morning would bring.

No rain had fallen during the night, and the air was now quiet in a warm
heavy fog, through which old cider-smells, reminding her of Wessex,
occasionally came from narrow streets in the background. Ethelberta
passed up the Rue Grand-Pont into the little dusky Rue Saint-Romain,
behind the cathedral, being driven mechanically along by the fever and
fret of her thoughts. She was about to enter the building by the
transept door, when she saw Lord Mountclere coming towards her.

Ethelberta felt equal to him, or a dozen such, this morning. The looming
spectres raised by her mother's information, the wearing sense of being
over-weighted in the race, were driving her to a Hamlet-like fantasticism
and defiance of augury; moreover, she was abroad.

'I am about to ascend to the parapets of the cathedral,' said she, in
answer to a half inquiry.

'I should be delighted to accompany you,' he rejoined, in a manner as
capable of explanation by his knowledge of her secret as was Ethelberta's
manner by her sense of nearing the end of her maying. But whether this
frequent glide into her company was meant as ephemeral flirtation, to
fill the half-hours of his journey, or whether it meant a serious love-
suit--which were the only alternatives that had occurred to her on the
subject--did not trouble her now. 'I am bound to be civil to so great a
lord,' she lightly thought, and expressing no objection to his presence,
she passed with him through the outbuildings, containing Gothic lumber
from the shadowy pile above, and ascended the stone staircase. Emerging
from its windings, they duly came to the long wooden ladder suspended in
mid-air that led to the parapet of the tower. This being wide enough for
two abreast, she could hardly do otherwise than wait a moment for the
viscount, who up to this point had never faltered, and who amused her as
they went by scraps of his experience in various countries, which, to do
him justice, he told with vivacity and humour. Thus they reached the end
of the flight, and entered behind a balustrade.

'The prospect will be very lovely from this point when the fog has blown
off,' said Lord Mountclere faintly, for climbing and chattering at the
same time had fairly taken away his breath. He leant against the masonry
to rest himself. 'The air is clearing already; I fancy I saw a sunbeam
or two.'

'It will be lovelier above,' said