"Oh, no; I shall return by the lower walk, which is safer and shorter. What is your name?"
"Reynolds, my lady."
"Good-night, Reynolds; and please do not mention my visit to any one."
"Except to his lordship—"
"No; not even to him, Reynolds. It would only pain him to know that his friends were observing his changed estate. You understand?"
"I do, my lady, but—"
"But, Reynolds, I ask you to do this for my sake," and again the smile beamed, the white hand was extended, and the subtle seductiveness of beauty had its way once more. Men are never so old, so humble, or so ignorant as to be insensible to the charm. Faithful old Reynolds took the lovely soft hand in both of his, and bent his white head and kissed it.
"Even he shall not know," he said; and the next moment she was gone—this time not across the moonlit field path to the cliff, but into the dark shadows of the woods on the other side of the lodge.
Reynolds watched her till she was lost in the gloom, and then returned to the lodge, closed the door, and started toward the cliff walk. The old man was strangely excited over this first visit of his master to "his own house," and he could not rest till he had seen the end of it.
But, before he had crossed the first field leading to the cliffs his mysterious visitor had returned to the lodge. She had changed her mind as she walked toward Ripon House, had resolved to see Geoffrey that night, let old Reynolds learn what he might, and she had returned.