The spider and the fly

by Charles Garvice

Had she really seen the White Nun, or had fancy deceived her?

That was a question she could not answer satisfactorily.

Then another one presented itself for consideration. Was Mr. Leicester Dodson a suitor for Lady Ethel's hand?

That also was a question which she could not answer.

It was true he had gone up to town suddenly, and it was true that he had been present at a ball at which Lady Ethel was also present. It was also a singular coincidence that he should return so suddenly to Penruddie at the time of the Lacklands' visit to Coombe Lodge.

"Well, if it was so," thought Violet, humming the air of a song which Captain Murpoint had sung, "it was nothing whatever to do with her."

Then she thought of his manner by the stile that evening—of its quiet sense of power and protection; of the grasp of his firm, strong hand on her trembling arm, of—well, of every word he had spoken, of every gesture he had used, of that act of kindness toward Jemmie Sanderson.

"I wish I were a little sleepier," she said, at last.

But though she went to bed sleep would not come to her sweet, deep eyes, which Mr. Leicester so much admired, and they were wide open watching the moonlight as it fell upon the wall for some time.