nergy returned. The colour came back to her face, her eyes
sparkled, her strong white hands contracted and opened, and closed
again, as though she would grasp something. The room, too, had become
warmer and she had forgotten to lay aside her furs. She longed for more
air and, rising, walked across the room. It occurred to her that the
great corridor would be deserted and as quiet as her own apartment, and
she went out and began to pace the stone flags, her head high, looking
straight before her.

She wished that she had him there now, and she was angry at the thought
that she had not seen earlier how easily it could all be done. However
strong he might be, having twice been under her influence before he
could not escape it again. In those moments when they had stood together
before the great dark buildings of the Clementinum, it might all have
been accomplished; and now, she must wait until the morning. But her
mind was determined. It mattered not how, it mattered not in what state,
he should be hers. No one would know what she had done. It was nothing
to her that he would be wholly unconscious of his past life--had she not
already made him forget the most important part of it? He would still be
himself, and yet he would love her, and speak lovingly to her, and act
as she would have him act. Everything could be done, and she would risk
nothing, for she would marry him and make him her lawful husband, and
they would spend their lives together, in peace, in the house wherein
she had so abased herself before him, foolishly believing that, as a
mere woman, she could win him.

She paced the corridor, passing and repassing beneath the light of the
single lamp that hung in the middle, walking quickly, with a sensation
of pleasure in the movement and in the cold draught that fanned her
cheek.

Then she heard footsteps distinct from the echo of her own and she stood
still. Two women were coming towards her through the gloom. She waited
near her own door, supposing that they would pass her. As they came
near, she saw that the one was a nun, habited in the plain gray robe and
black and white head-dress of the order. The other was a lady dressed,
like herself, in black. The light burned so badly that as the two
stopped and stood for a moment conversing together, Unorna could not
clearly distinguish their faces. Then the lady entered one of the rooms,
the third or the fourth from Unorna's, and the nun remained standing
outside, a