"I think he is not likely to see the paper," replied Miss Boyle. She picked up the copy of the Gazette and thrust it into her bag. "Farewell again, and thank you—oh, thank you, Susannah!" They kissed again in the dusk that each was secretly so grateful for.
"Is your carriage below, dear?"
"It is waiting. Do not come down."
They parted; the door closed on the slight beauty of Selina Boyle, and Susannah crossed at once to the fireplace and pulled the bell-rope. Then she sank into a chair and pushed the fair locks back from her brow, and stared desperately into the twilight. She felt her cheeks becoming pale and her blood turning cold. A bitter exclamation left her lips, she beat her foot in anger at her own weakness, and when the servant entered rose and turned her back to the room.
One by one the delicate candle flames sprang from the taper and a soft light illumined the pale rich chamber.
"A letter, madam," said the servant.
"For me?"
"No; for Captain Lyndwood, madam."
Miss Chressham gave a careless glance at the letter he placed on the mantelshelf.