Many a night he had paced up and down the grounds, watching the light in that window. Then it had never been put out before ten. Why should it be extinguished so early to-night?
The thought troubled Eugene Mallard, as he turned his head and saw the figure still pacing restlessly up and down by the brook.
He dared not utter a word. He would await developments. He scarcely breathed, in his suspense. It seemed to him that the blood in his veins was turned to ice.
He took up a position where there was no possible danger of being observed, and there he watched and waited.
Up in her boudoir Ida was donning with trembling hands, the long cloak that was to disguise her.
She had sent Nora from her room. But it seemed to her that the girl looked back suspiciously as she went out and closed the door after her.
"Heaven help me to get through with this exciting scene!" Ida muttered.
Her heart was throbbing so, her limbs were so weak, that she was obliged to sit down for a minute.
"Oh, Heaven help me! How thankful I am that Eugene did not send for me before he left for the ball. He has reached there by this time!" she muttered.