Mr. Rothsay retired once more to the library, accompanied by his friends, to renew their discussion.
Cora, in her restlessness of spirit, arose from her seat and walked several times up and down the floor.
Presently, weary of walking, and attracted by the coolness and darkness of the back drawing room, in which the chandeliers had not been lighted, she passed between the draped blue satin portieres that divided it from the front room and entered the apartment.
The French windows stood open upon a richly stored flower garden, from which the refreshing fragrance of dewy roses, lilies, violets, cape jasmines, and other aromatic plants was wafted by the westerly breeze.
Cora seated herself upon the sofa between the two low French windows, and waited.
Presently she heard the visitors taking leave.
"The committee will wait on you between ten and eleven to-morrow morning," she heard one gentleman say, as they passed out.
Then several "good nights" were uttered, and the guests all departed, and the door was closed.
Cora heard her husband's quick, eager step as he hurried into the front drawing room, seeking his wife.
She felt her heart sinking, the high nervous tension of her whole frame relaxing. She heard the hall clock strike ten. When the last stroke died away, she heard her husband's voice calling, softly: