The iron gate was locked; could he but reach her window, he might leave a message for her pencilled on a calling-card,—for to write by post was hopeless; yet he should like her to know in the morning that he had been lingering so near her. Through the iron bars he looked most wistfully at the lighted window, where once or twice the candles cast a flitting shadow on the blind. Could he but attract her attention, make her aware of his presence, and exchange a word or two; perhaps he might have an interview with her, though that would be unseemly, and what she would not probably consent to; and yet, after relinquishing the handful of gravel he was about to toss against the window, he suddenly resorted to a plan, which, if discovered, would prove more awkward still.
The locked gate barred all entrance to the garden; but he perceived that a great espalier had its branches trained over all the wall, forming a solid and veritable ladder from the ground to its summit. The place was sequestered; the hour lonely, and every moment of delay might be perilous, for if she had begun to disrobe, he would be compelled to retire, so Audley proceeded at once to scale the barrier, that he might descend on the other side.
This proceeding was bold, rash, and rude, perhaps; but he had no other resource if he would see her ere he left Cornwall, which he must certainly do, by an early train on the morrow. With the speed of lightning, his thoughts reverted to their brief but pleasant past, and to every passage of their acquaintance; their first meeting beside the moorland tarn; her rescue from the Pixies' Hole; their solitary walks, and that one delightful hour in yonder conservatory, and he felt assured that she, at least, would forgive his present temerity.
Other ideas flashed through his mind, as he clambered from branch to branch, feeling them yielding the while under his feet as he tore or wrenched them from the masonry. He felt that his real object might be doubted; that his position was anomalous and improper, and might compromise the girl he loved. What would the mess of the Hussar regiment he had left, or that of the Light Infantry corps he was about to join, think if they saw him now? What would his cold-hearted, legal "papa"—his proud, aristocratic, and unimpressible mamma have thought of such an adventure; and in fancy he saw the stern grimace of the former, and the latter using her vinaigrette and fan with unwonted vigour, at the idea of her son visiting any lady thus—more than all, the daughter of "Mrs. Devereaux!"
Then fears occurred to him that some change might have taken place in the internal arrangements at the villa, and that the window before which he found himself, after dropping noiselessly into the garden, might open to the room, not of Sybil, but her mother, or old Winny Braddon!
Trusting to his doctrine of chances, he hoped this might prove a lucky one.
The blind of the window (which opened in the French fashion down to a flight of steps) was not completely closed; thus he could see the whole interior of a spacious and handsome bedroom, nearly in the centre of which stood a dressing-table and mirror festooned gracefully with white lace, and before it was seated Sybil in her dark mourning dress, with her chin resting in the hollow of one hand, the elbow being placed upon the table. Her other arm hung by her side, and she seemed lost in thought, for her eyes instead of gazing into the large oval mirror, wherein, by the light of two tall wax candles in ormolu holders, her own loveliness was reflected, were bent upon vacancy, or the floor.
Sybil's usually pale and always pure complexion, was paler now; thus her eyes, their brows and lashes, and the masses of her hair seemed by contrast to be very dark indeed; and the latter in rich profusion fell over her shoulders and back below her waist. In the background of this pretty picture, stood forth the white and elegant draperies of her bed, the festooned muslin of which hung in vapour-like folds, over curtains of rose-coloured silk, looped up by white cords and tassels of the same material.
A glance enabled Audley to take in all these details, and his breathing became a series of sighs as he regarded Sybil, who sat quite motionless and sunk in reverie. He flattered himself that she was thinking of him; but it was not so; she had just concluded a sorrowful letter to Denzil, her only brother, and her thoughts were far away with him, or with her mamma and all their coming troubles; for all those luxuries by which the wealth and taste, and more than all, the love of her dead father had surrounded them, were about to be relinquished now, and ere long grim poverty would be staring them gauntly in the face.
At times her nether lip quivered; the tears began to roll over her cheeks, and as a sigh escaped her, the heaving movement of her neck and shoulders made more apparent their graceful character and undulating curve. Then suddenly, as with her quick white fingers she was proceeding to coil up the tresses of her hair for the night, a sound seemed to startle her, she paused, and her eyes flashed and dilated with surprise.