o take me.
Just one peep."

So he took her, of course, and the peep prolonged itself indefinitely. I
had a sinking presentiment that my dreadful flare-up with Dick had been
in vain, and that after all she would inveigle him into proposing to her
this very night. Since I refused to tell him that her damask cheek was
being preyed upon by love of him, she would probably intimate as much
herself, and bury her head between her hands, looking incredibly sad and
lovable. Sir Lionel wouldn't be the man to fight such tactics as those!
I knew he didn't, wouldn't, and couldn't love her one little bit, but he
would be sorry for her, and sacrifice himself rather than she should
suffer for his sake, when he might make her happy.

Emily chatted to me pleasantly about the church, and the vicar at
Graylees, and family tombs, and such cheerful things, to which I said
"Yes" and "No" whenever she stopped; but a cold perspiration was coming
out on my forehead. I was just as sure as that I was alive, that Mrs.
Senter didn't mean to leave the library until Sir Lionel had made her a
present of himself, his books, and his castle. Probably my sub-conscious
self or astral body was there, hearing every word they said. Anyhow, I
_knew_. And I could do nothing. A thumb-screw or a rack would have been
a pleasant relief.

Suddenly we heard the sound of a carriage driving quickly up to the
house.

"Who can that be?" wondered Mrs. Norton. "It's after half-past nine."

"Very likely it's Mr. Burden," said I; the first moderately intelligent
remark I'd made since we were left together.

She agreed with me that this was probable; but when fifteen, twenty,
forty minutes passed by the clock, and Dick did not appear, she changed
her mind. It must have been someone to see Sir Lionel, she thought, on
business that wouldn't wait. I was not convinced of this, and longed for
her to ring and ask a footman who had come; but I couldn't very well
suggest it.

The house did sound so silent, that my ears rang, as they do when one
listens to a shell!

Ten; ten-fifteen; ten-thirty; a Louis Quatorze clock chimed. Hardly had
it got the last two strokes out of its mouth, when Sir Lionel opened the
door. He was pale, in that frightening way that tanned skins do turn
pale, and he didn't seem to see his sister. He looked straight past her
at me, and his eyes shone.

"I want very much to speak to you," he said. His voice shook ever so
slightly, as if he were going int