with Jimmy Travers on his way to the northern woods. She dropped her face in her hands and sent up broken words of pleading that it might be so.

The tide was at full ebb at midnight. At a quarter before she made ready. She took from the bureau a book she had been reading—if she met any one she could say she had come down to find it—and opened her door with the stealth of a burglar. A dead silence reigned as she stole down the stairs and into the living-room. Here the great line of windows—the moon not yet upon them—shone in gray oblongs diffusing a spectral light that did not touch the darkness under the galleries.

At the entrance, pressed against the door, she looked out. It was a world of white enchantment, breathlessly still. She could see the patterned surfaces of leaves, the cracks and fissures of the [Pg 142]rocks. Below the channel lay almost bare, pools glistening like dropped mirrors, mounds of mud casting inky shadows. In the middle—a restless silvery sparkle—ran a narrow stream carrying a glinting line of radiance to the ocean beyond. The pungent smell of mud and seaweed came from it along with the sleepy lisp of rippling water.

[Pg 142]

She could hear the murmur of the men’s voices from the open library windows, and like the throbbing of a muffled engine, the beating of her own heart.

Into that deep enveloping quietude came a sound, so faint, so infinitely small and hushed, that only expectant ears could have caught it. It came from the room behind her, and turning, she slid back against the wall, her body black against its blackness. The sound continued, the opening of a door opposite, the door into the kitchen wing. It seemed no door in the world had ever opened so slowly—creaking, stopping, resuming, dying away. She could see nothing, for the darkness of the gallery lay impenetrable over that furtive entrance.

[Pg 143]

[Pg 143]

There was a footstep, light as the fall of a leaf, and she saw him coming toward her in that high luminous pallor from the windows. He was like a shadow, so evenly dark, a shape without detail, moving with a shadow’s noiseless passage. She saw the outline of the cap on his head and that he carried his shoes in one hand.

She came forward with a hand raised for caution, sending her voice before her in an agonized whisper:

“Go back, Joe. The causeway’s watched. You can’t get over that 

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