oke's eye was upon him, and he could not
therefore follow her; but he made his way into the library through the
folding doors, and there a new mode of attack became visible to him. By
the library door he gained the landing; and then he softly descended the
stairs, which were now almost deserted, for the guests had crowded into
the drawing-room, first to hear Lesley's song and then to listen to a
recitation by Ethel Kenyon. But where had Lesley gone?

A subtle instinct told him that she had hidden herself for a moment--and
told him also where to find her. The lights were burning low in her
father's study, which had been set to rights a little, in order to serve
as a room where people could lounge and talk if they wanted to escape
the din of conversation in the larger rooms. He looked in, and at first
thought it empty. But the movement of a curtain revealed some one's
presence; and as his eyes became accustomed to the dimmer light, he saw
that it was Lesley. She was standing between the fireplace and curtained
window, and her hand was on the mantelpiece.

She started when she saw him in the doorway. It was her start that
betrayed her. He came forward and shut the door behind him--Lesley
fancied that she heard the click of the key in the lock. She tried to
carry matters with a high hand.

"I am afraid I cannot find my music here," she said, "so please do not
shut the door, Mr. Trent. There is little enough light as it is."

She walked forward, but he had planted himself squarely between her and
the door. She could not pass.

"Mr. Trent----" she began.

"Wait! don't speak," he said, in a voice so hoarse and stifled that she
could hardly recognize it as his own. "I must have a word with
you--forgive me--I won't detain you long----"

"Excuse me, I must go back to the drawing-room."

Lesley spoke civilly but coldly, though some sort of fear of him passed
shiveringly through her frame.

"You shall not go yet: you shall listen to what I have to say."

"Mr. Trent!"

"Yes, it is all very well to exclaim! You know what I mean, and what I
want. I had not time to speak the other night; but I will speak now.
Lesley, I love you!----"

"Mr. Trent, Ethel is upstairs. Have you forgotten her? Let me pass."

"I have not forgotten her: I remember her only too well. She is the
burden, the incubus of my life. Oh, I know all that you can tell me
about her: I know her beauty, her gifts, her virtues; but all that does
not charm me