as possible for such an enterprise as his, and after listening
to some distant sounds of talking in the back of the house, Hilary
proceeded with beating heart to take out and unroll his light coil of
rope.

By means of a little management he took one of the leaded panes from the
bottom of the casement so as to allow the rope to be securely tied round
the stout oak centrepiece of the window, and then, after watching
attentively for a few minutes, he lowered down the other end until the
full extent was reached, and as nearly as he could judge it touched the
ground.

Even if it did not, there was nothing to fear, for at the utmost he
would have had but a few feet to drop, and after a few moments'
hesitancy he passed one leg out of the window, took a good grip of the
rope, climbed right out, twisted his legs round in turn, and directly
after, while swinging gently, he let himself down foot by foot.

It was nothing to him. His sailor life made a descent by a rope one of
the merest trifles.

Down lower and lower, past Adela's window, and then coming into sight of
a broad casement where a light was burning.

The upper floors of the old building projected beyond the lower, so that
he had not been aware of this lighted room, and as he hung there turning
slowly round and round he could plainly see Sir Henry in a
comfortably-furnished place, seated at a table writing, while Adela was
gazing up into his face as she sat upon a low stool at his feet.

For a few moments Hilary hung there motionless, feeling that if Sir
Henry raised his eyes, as he was sure to do at the slightest sound, he
could not help seeing him gently spinning round and round.

Recovering himself though, directly, he let himself slide, and reached
the ground, but made so much noise that he heard Sir Henry speak, and he
had hardly time to dart aside, drawing with him the white rope, and
crouch down close to the house, before the window was opened, and he
knew that some one was looking out.

"No, papa," said a well-known voice, "I can see nothing."

"Look again," said Sir Henry. "Stop; I'll come."

There was the noise of a moving chair, and then Hilary felt that Sir
Henry was looking out of the window, and wondered whether he was seen.

He hardly dared to breathe, and it seemed like an hour before he heard a
sigh, and Sir Henry said, softly--

"What a lovely night, my child!"

Then there was the sound of the casement being closed, steps faintly
hea