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“Cecily!”

“Hush!” she said, in a distracted whisper: “I felt I must see you to-night. I could not wait until day–no, not another hour! I could not speak to you before them. I could not go into that dreadful garden again, or beyond the walls of this house. Dick, I want to–I MUST tell you something! I would have kept it from every one–from you most of all! I know you will hate me, and despise me; but, Dick, listen!”–she caught his hand despairingly, drawing it towards her–“that girl’s awful story was TRUE!” She threw his hand away.

“And you have seen HER!” said Dick, frantically. “Good God!”

The young girl’s manner changed. “HER!” she said, half scornfully, “you don’t suppose I believe THAT story? No. I–I–don’t blame me, Dick,–I have seen HIM.”

“Him?”

She pushed him nervously into a seat, and sat down beside him. In the half light of the moon, despite her pallor and distraction, she was still very human, womanly, and attractive in her disorder.

“Listen to me, Dick. Do you remember one afternoon, when we were riding together, I got ahead of you, and dashed off to the casa. I don’t know what possessed me, or WHY I did it. I only know I wanted to get home quickly, and get away from you. No, I was not angry, Dick, at YOU; it did not seem to be THAT; I–well, I confess I was FRIGHTENED–at something, I don’t know what. When I wheeled round into the lane, I saw–a man–a young gentleman standing by the garden-wall. He was very picturesque-looking, in his red sash, velvet jacket, and round silver buttons; handsome, but oh, so pale and sad! He looked at me very eagerly, and then suddenly drew back, and I heard you on Chu Chu coming at my heels. You must have seen him and passed him too, I thought: but when you said nothing of it, I–I don’t know why, Dick, I said nothing of it too. Don’t speak!” she added, with a hurried gesture: “I know NOW why you said nothing,–YOU had not seen him.”

She stopped, and put back a wisp of her disordered chestnut hair.

“The next time was the night YOU were so queer, Dick, sitting on that stone bench. When I left you–I thought you didn’t care to have me stay–I went to seek Aunt Viney at the bottom of the garden. I was very sad, but suddenly I found myself very gay, talking and laughing with her in a way I could not account for. All at once, looking up, I saw HIM standing by the little gate, looking at me very sadly. I think I would have spoken to Aunt Viney, but he put his finger to his lips–his hand was so slim and white, quite like a hand in one of those Spanish pictures–and moved slowly backwards into the lane, as if he wished to speak with ME only–out there. I know I ought to have spoken to Aunty; I knew it was wrong what I did, but he looked so earnest, so appealing, so awfully sad, Dick, that I slipped past Aunty and went out of the gate. Just then she missed me, and called. He made a kind of despairing gesture, raising his hand Spanish fashion to his lips, as if to say good-night. You’ll think me bold, Dick, but I was so anxious to know what it all meant, that I gave a glance behind to see if Aunty was following, before I should go right up to him and demand an explanation. But when I faced round again, he was gone! I walked up and down the lane and out on the plain nearly half an hour, seeking him. It was strange, I know; but I was not a bit FRIGHTENED, Dick–that was so queer–but I was only amazed and curious.”

The look of spiritual terror in Dick’s face here seemed to give way to a less exalted disturbance, as he fixed his eyes on Cecily’s.