with
stiff, fumbling fingers, then shook it about her shoulders, and sank
quivering upon a couch. She could not go to bed. The terror that
possessed her was too intense, too overmastering.

Ah! What was that? Every pulse in her body leaped and stood still at
sound of a low knock at the door. Who could it be? gasped her fainting
heart. Not Sir Roland, surely! He never came to her room now.

Softly the door opened. It was Sir Roland and none other--Sir Roland
wearing an old velvet smoking--jacket, composed as ever, his grey eyes
very level and inscrutable.

He paused for a single instant upon the threshold, then came noiselessly
in and closed the door.

Naomi sat motionless and speechless. She lacked the strength to rise.
Her hands were pressed upon her heart. She thought its beating would
suffocate her.

He came quietly across the room to her, not seeming to notice her
agitation.

"I should not have disturbed you at this hour if I had not been sure
that you were awake," he said.

Reaching her, he bent and touched her white cheek.

"Why, child, how cold you are!" he said.

She started violently back, and then, as a sudden memory assailed her,
she caught his hand and held it for an instant.

"It is nothing," she said with an effort. "You--you startled me."

"You are nervous tonight," said Sir Roland.

She shrank under his look.

"You see, I did not expect you," she murmured.

"Evidently not." Sir Roland stood gravely considering her. "I came
back," he said, after a moment, "because it occurred to me that you
might be lonely after all, in spite of your assurance to the contrary.
I did not ask you to accompany me, Naomi. I did not think you would care
to do so. But I regretted it later, and I have come back to remedy the
omission. Will you come with me to Scotland?"

His tone was quiet and somewhat formal, but there was in it a kindliness
that sent the blood pulsing through her veins in a wave of relief even
greater than her astonishment at his words. He did not know, then. That
was her one all-possessing thought. He could not know, or he had not
spoken to her thus.

She sat slowly forward, drawing her hair about her shoulders like a
cloak. She felt for the moment an overpowering weakness, and she could
not look up.

"I will come, of course," she said at last, her voice very low, "if you
wish it."

Sir Roland did not respond at once. Then, as his silence was beginning
to disquiet her again, he laid