She began to comprehend all and drew herself, with a blush, from the arm that still held her gently.
"Pardon me. You were half asleep and I held you to keep you from falling," he said, with cool dignity. "Shall we return to the house now? My mother is in great suspense."
"I am very sorry," she began, penitently, as she moved on quietly by his side. "I did not mean to frighten any one. You—you were very kind to come and look for me."
In her heart she was secretly singing pæans of gladness. She was not discovered yet. Her clever move that evening had thrown her enemy off his guard. Trying to keep the tremor out of her voice, she asked with apparent carelessness:
"Who was my visitor, Mr. Le Roy?"
"Whom do you imagine?" he responded.
"Was—was it Mr. Wentworth?" she inquired, with artless innocence and something in her voice that he interpreted as hope and longing.
"Do you suppose that Mr. Wentworth would be admitted inside the doors of Eden?" he inquired, with grim anger.
"Why not?" said she, timidly.
"You must know that we have our instructions from your mother," he answered, stiffly.