the bank; she struggled through
them, frantically fighting her way.

She was drenched nearly to the waist when at last she climbed up the
grassy slope. She heard the seekers laughing down among the ruins some
distance away as she did so, and for a few seconds she thought she might
escape to the house unobserved. She turned in that direction, her wet
skirts clinging round her. And then, simultaneously, two things happened.

The key ground in the lock of the boat-house, and, ere Wentworth could
emerge, a man walked out from the shadow of some trees and met her on the
path. She stopped short in the moonlight, standing as one transfixed. It
was her husband.

He came to her, moving more quickly than was his won't. "My dear child!"
he ejaculated.

Feverishly she sought to make explanation. "I--I was hiding--down
on the bank. I slipped into the lake. It was very foolish of me.
But--but--really I couldn't help it."

Her teeth were chattering. He took her by the arm.

"Come up to the house at once!" he said.

She looked towards the boat-house. The door was ajar, but Wentworth had
not shown himself. With a gasp of relief she yielded to Field's insistent
hand.

Her knees were shaking under her, but she made a valiant effort to
control them. He did not speak further, and something in his silence
dismayed her. She trembled more and more as she walked. Her wet clothes
impeded her. She remembered with consternation that she had left her
cloak in the boat-house. In her horror at this discovery she stopped.

As she did so a sudden tumult behind them told her that Wentworth had
been sighted by his pursuers.

In the same moment Field very quietly turned and lifted her in his arms.
She gave a gasp of astonishment.

"I think we shall get on quicker this way," he said. "Put your arm over
my shoulder, won't you?"

He spoke as gently as if she had been a child, and instinctively she
obeyed. He bore her very steadily straight to the house.

CHAPTER VIII

In the safe haven of her own room Violet recovered somewhat. Field left
her in the charge of her maid, but the latter she very quickly dismissed.
She sat before the fire clad in a wrapper, still shivering spasmodically,
but growing gradually calmer.

"I believe there is a letter on the writing-table," she said to the maid
as she was about to go out. "Take it with you and put it in the box
downstairs!"

The girl returned and took up the letter that Field had written