also keeping watch in the near
neighborhood of the cottage. She took out her work and her books; and
returned to her chair, placing it near the table, in the middle of the
room.

The last noises which told of life and movement about her died away. The
breathless stillness of the night closed round her.

CHAPTER THE FIFTY-SIXTH.

THE MEANS.

THE new day dawned; the sun rose; the household was astir again. Inside
the spare room, and outside the spare room, nothing had happened.

At the hour appointed for leaving the cottage to pay the promised visit
to Holchester House, Hester Dethridge and Geoffrey were alone together
in the bedroom in which Anne had passed the night.

"She's dressed, and waiting for me in the front garden," said Geoffrey.
"You wanted to see me here alone. What is it?"

Hester pointed to the bed.

"You want it moved from the wall?"

Hester nodded her head.

They moved the bed some feet away from the partition wall. After a
momentary pause, Geoffrey spoke again.

"It must be done to-night," he said. "Her friends may interfere; the
girl may come back. It must be done to-night."

Hester bowed her head slowly.

"How long do you want to be left by yourself in the house?"

She held up three of her fingers.

"Does that mean three hours?"

She nodded her head.

"Will it be done in that time?"

She made the affirmative sign once more.

Thus far, she had never lifted her eyes to his. In her manner of
listening to him when he spoke, in the slightest movement that she made
when necessity required it, the same lifeless submission to him, the
same mute horror of him, was expressed. He had, thus far, silently
resented this, on his side. On the point of leaving the room the
restraint which he had laid on himself gave way. For the first time, he
resented it in words.

"Why the devil can't you look at me?" he asked

She let the question pass, without a sign to show that she had heard
him. He angrily repeated it. She wrote on her slate, and held it out to
him--still without raising her eyes to his face.

"You know you can speak," he said. "You know I have found you out.
What's the use of playing the fool with _me?_"

She persisted in holding the slate before him. He read these words:

"I am dumb to you, and blind to you. Let me be."

"Let you be!" he repeated. "It's a little late in the day to be
scrupulous, after what you have done. Do you want your Confession back,
or not?"

As the