At the end of the interior of the arcade was a niche, in which were generally kept some of the girl's gardening tools, and a slight ladder which they used.
Blanche was still dressed, as the light in her bed-room told Cecil, who had stolen out in pursuance of the resolution recorded in the last chapter. She was seated on the side of her bed in an attitude of delicious reverie, her head slightly drooping, her hands carelessly fallen on her lap, when the sound of a pebble striking against the window-pane startled her. Again that sound—and again! She rose and went to the window. The sky was overcast, and the night was dark, but after a few seconds she recognised Cecil, and opened the window.
"Are you dressed, dearest?"
"Yes."
"Then come out into the gallery. I want to speak to you. I can get up by the ladder."
"Very well, but be careful."
She closed the window, and stepped out. He placed the top of the ladder against the pediment of the arcade and quickly ascended.
They rushed into each other's arms of course. Lovers always do that directly they are together, no matter what important business brings them there.
"Blanche, my beloved, are you willing to share my fate, whatever that may be?"
"Have you run all this risk to ask me that?" she said, reproachfully.