nd along a winding
path into a country road. She turned slowly up the hill. Her breath was
coming faster than ever now. What folly!--transcendental!--exquisite!
Her footsteps grew slower. She kept to the side of the hedge, raising
her skirts a little, for the grass was long. A few yards farther was the
gate. The soft swish of her silken draperies as she stole along, became
a clearly recognizable sound against the background of intense silence.
Macheson had been leaning against a tree just inside. He opened the
gate. She stepped almost into his arms. Her white face was suddenly
illuminated by the soft blaze of summer lightning which poured from the
sky. He had no time to move, to realize. He felt her hands upon his
cheek, his face drawn downwards, her lips, soft and burning, pressed
against his for one long, exquisite second. And then--the darkness once
more and his arms were empty.

CHAPTER X

THE STILL FIGURE IN THE CHAIR

With upraised skirts, and feet that flashed like silver across the turf
and amongst the bracken, Wilhelmina flew homewards. Once more her heart
was like the heart of a girl. Her breath came in little sobs mingled
with laughter, the ground beneath her feet was buoyant as the clouds.
She had no fear of being pursued--least of anything in the world did she
desire it. The passion of a woman is controlled always by her sentiment.
It seemed to her that that breathless episode was in itself an epic, she
would not for worlds have added to it, have altered it in any shape or
form. A moment's lingering might so easily have spoilt everything. Had
he attempted to play either the prude or the Lothario, the delicate
flavour would have passed away from the adventure, which had set her
heart beating once more, and sent the blood singing so sweetly through
her veins. So she sped through the darkness, leaving fragments of lace
upon the thorns, like some beautiful bird, escaped from long captivity,
rushing through a strange world.

Before she reached the grounds the storm came. There was a crash of
thunder, which seemed to tear apart the heavens above, and then the big
raindrops began to fall upon her bare shoulders and her clothes as light
and airy as butterfly's wings. She abandoned herself to the ruin of a
Paquin gown without a thought of regret; she even laughed softly with
pleasure as she lifted her burning face to the cool sweet deluge, and
lessened her pace in the avenue, walking with her hands behin