Suddenly her head dropped upon her arms, now resting on David's manuscript; she sobbed.
"Oh, Davy,—Davy, I wish you were here! I wish you were here now!"
The creaking of the stairs startled her. She half arose and stared at the open door, expecting to see—the ghost! Goose-flesh crept out all over her. The ghost that people said came to—
The very corporeal presence of Courtney Thane appeared in the doorway.
For many seconds she was stupefied. She could see his lips moving, she knew he was speaking, she could see his smile as he approached, and yet only an unintelligible mumble came to her ears.
"—and so I cut across the field and ventured in where angels do not fear to tread," were the first words that possessed any degree of coherency for her.
She hastily thrust the precious manuscript into the drawer. He stopped several feet away and looked about the room curiously, his gaze coming back to her after a moment. The light of the candles was full on her face.
"Well, of all the queer places," he said. "What in the world brings you here? I thought no one ever entered this house, Alix."
"I have not been inside this house in ten years," she said, struggling for control of herself. "I came today to—to look for some papers that were left here. I was on the point of leaving when you came up." She picked up her gloves from the table.
"It's cold here. Do you think it was wise for you to sit here in this chilly—Gad, it's like an ice-house or a tomb. Better let me give you my coat." He started to remove his overcoat. There was an anxious, solicitous expression in his eyes.