Swithin could not sleep that night for thinking of his Viviette.

Nothing told so significantly of the conduct of her first husband towards the

poor lady as the abiding dread of him which was revealed in her by any

sudden revival of his image or memory. But for that consideration her

almost childlike terror at Swithin's inadvertent disguise would have been

ludicrous.

He waited anxiously through several following days for an opportunity of

seeing her, but none was afforded. Her brother's presence in the house

sufficiently accounted for this. At length he ventured to write a note,

requesting her to signal to him in a way she had done once or twice

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before,--by pulling down a blind in a particular window of the house, one

of the few visible from the top of the Rings-Hill column; this to be done

on any evening when she could see him after dinner on the terrace.

When he had levelled the glass at that window for five successive nights

he beheld the blind in the position suggested. Three hours later, quite

in the dusk, he repaired to the place of appointment.

'My brother is away this evening,' she explained, 'and that's why I can

come out. He is only gone for a few hours, nor is he likely to go for

longer just yet. He keeps himself a good deal in my company, which has

made it unsafe for me to venture near you.' 'Has he any suspicion?' 'None, apparently. But he rather depresses me.' 'How, Viviette?' Swithin feared, from her manner, that this was

something serious.

'I would rather not tell.' 'But--Well, never mind.' 'Yes, Swithin, I will tell you. There should be no secrets between us. He urges upon me the necessity of marrying, day after day.' 'For money and position, of course.' 'Yes. But I take no notice. I let him go on.' 'Really, this is sad!' said the young man. 'I must work harder than ever, or you will never be able to own me.' 'O yes, in good time!' she cheeringly replied.

'I shall be very glad to have you always near me. I felt the gloom of

our position keenly when I was obliged to disappear that night, without

assuring you it was only I who stood there. Why were you so frightened

at those old clothes I borrowed?' 'Don't ask,--don't ask!' she said, burying her face on his shoulder.

'I don't want to speak of that. There was something so ghastly and so

uncanny in your putting on such garments that I wish you had been more

thoughtful, and had left them alone.' He assured her that he did not stop to consider whose they were. 'By the way, they must be sent back,' he said.




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