"Joanna!" breathed a voice, speaking near her.
"Beverly!" answered the young wife, breathing the name in a whisper.
A faint sound like a step, whose echo is muffled by thick carpets, and the hand of a man, clasps the hand of Joanna.
"How long have you been here?" she whispered.
"I just entered," was the answer.
"How?"
"By the front door, and the key which you gave me."
"O, I tremble so,—I am afraid—"
An arm encircled the cloak which covered her, and girded it tightly about her form.
"Has he gone, Joanna?"