“Captain Thorne is coming,” she whispered expressionlessly, “unless you want to be seen, you had better go.”
“Here, this way, Mrs. Varney,” said Arrelsford, taking that lady by the arm and going down to the far end to the door covered by the portières.
The two disappeared, and it was impossible for a soul to see them in the darkness of the hall, although they could see clearly enough, even in the dimly lighted drawing-room, everything that would happen. Edith stood as if rooted to the floor, the paper still in her hand, when Thorne opened the sash which she had closed behind her and entered in his turn the window through which she had come a short time before. He stepped eagerly toward her.
“You were so long,” he whispered, “coming for me, that——” He stopped abruptly, and looked at her face, “is anything the matter?”
“No.”
“You had been away such a long time that I thought——”
“Only a few minutes.”
“Only a few years,” said the man passionately. His voice was low and gently modulated, not because he had anything to conceal but because of the softness of the moonlight and the few candles dimly flickering upon the walls of the great room, the look in the girl’s eyes, and the feeling in his heart. A few minutes, the girl had said!—Ah, it was indeed a few years to him.
“If it was a few years to you,” returned the girl with a violent effort at lightness, although her heart was torn to pieces with the emotions of the moment, “what a lot of time there is.”
“No,” said Thorne, “there is only to-night.”