ughtfully.

"Ah!" he said.

"You have not answered my question," I reminded him.

"Nor am I going to," he replied coolly. "You know already as much as is
good for you."

He rose and threw open the door of my cottage. For several moments he
stood bareheaded, looking up towards the house, looking and listening.
He glanced at his watch, and walked several times backwards and forwards
from the edge of the cliff to my door. Then he came in for his hat and
stick.

"I am going down to the sea," he said. "If Lady Angela comes, will you
call me? I shall not be out of hearing."

"You are expecting her?" I asked, looking down at my work.

"Yes. It was necessary for me to see her somewhere, so I asked her to
come here. Perhaps the Duke has found out and stopped her. Anyhow,
call me if she comes."

He stepped outside, and I heard him scrambling down the cliff. I set my
teeth and turned to my work. It was a hard thing to have my little
room, with its store of memories, turned into a meeting-place for these
two. I at least would take care to be far enough away. And then I
began wondering whether she would come. I was still wondering when I
heard her footsteps.

She came in unaccustomed garb to me. She wore a grey dress of some soft
material, and a large black hat with feathers. Her skirts were gathered
up in her hand, and I heard the jingling of harness at the corner of the
avenue where her carriage was waiting. I opened the door, and she
entered with a soft swish of silk and a gentle rustling. The room
seemed instantly full of perfume of Neapolitan violets, a great bunch of
which were in her bosom.

She looked swiftly around, and I fancied that it was a relief to her to
find me alone.

"Is Colonel Ray here?" she asked.

"He is waiting for you," I answered, "on the sands. I promised to call
him directly you came."

I moved toward the door, but she checked me with an imperative gesture.

"Wait," she said.

I came slowly back and stood by my table. She was sitting with her
hands clasped together, looking into the fire. She looked very girlish
and frail.

"I want to think--for a moment," she said. "Everything seems confusion.
My father has commanded me to break my engagement with Colonel Ray."

I remained silent. What was there, indeed, for me to say?

"In my heart," she went on slowly, "I know that my father is wrong and
that Colonel Ray is right. He has simply done his duty. Blenavon was
being sorely tempted. H