Martin was looking straight into her eyes. A flush had risen in his
cheeks.

Thyme, too, went the colour of the old-rose curtain behind which she
sat.

"Let go!"

"I won't! I'll make you know your mind. What do you mean to do? Are you
coming in a fit of sentiment, or do you mean business?"

Suddenly, half-hypnotised, the young girl ceased to struggle. Her face
had the strangest expression of submission and defiance--a sort of
pain, a sort of delight. So they sat full half a minute staring at each
other's eyes. Hearing a rustling sound, they looked, and saw Bianca
moving to the door. Cecilia, too, had risen.

"What is it, B.?"

Bianca, opening the door, went out. Cecilia followed swiftly, too late
to catch even a glimpse of her sister's face behind the veil...

In Mr. Stone's room the green lamp burned dimly, and he who worked by it
was sitting on the edge of his campbed, attired in his old brown woollen
gown and slippers.

And suddenly it seemed to him that he was not alone.

"I have finished for to-night," he said. "I am waiting for the moon to