He had not been at home when Julian had taken the news of the Squire’s accident to the Abbey, and only menservants had come to the rescue.  She had accompanied them part of the way back, but Tudor had overtaken them in the drive, and she and the boys had turned back.  Sir Beverley had been exhausted and but half-conscious, and he had not uttered another word to her.  She wished Dr. Tudor had looked in on his way home, and then wondered if the Squire’s condition were such as to necessitate his spending the night at the Abbey.  He had once told her that Sir Beverley suffered from a weakness of the heart which might develop seriously at any time; but though himself fully aware of the fact, the old man had never permitted Piers to be told.  She had deemed it unfair to Piers, but it was no matter for interference.  A great longing to know what was happening possessed her.  Surely—­surely Mr. Lorimer would send up in the morning to enquire!

Her thoughts took another turn.  She had been given definite notice to go.  In her efforts to console Mrs. Lorimer, and the children, she had scarcely herself realized all that it would imply.  She began to picture the parting, and a quiver of pain went through her.  How they had all grown about her heart!  How would she bear to say good-bye to her little delicate Jeanie?  And how would the child fare without her?  She hardly dared to think.

And then again that blinding ray of sunshine burst riotously through her clouds.  If the impossible happened, if she ever married Piers—­for the first time she deliberately faced and contemplated the thought—­would she not be at least within reach if trouble came?  A little thrill of spiteful humour ran through her at this point.  She was quite sure that under such circumstances she would not be refused admittance to the Vicar’s home.  As Piers’ wife, its doors would always be open to her.

As Piers’ wife!  She found herself repeating the words, repeating and repeating them till their strangeness began to give place to a certain familiarity.  Was it after all true, as he had once so vehemently asserted, that they were meant for each other, belonged to each other, that the fate of each was bound in that of the other?  What if she were a woman grown?  What if her years outnumbered his?  Had he not waked in her such music as her soul had never known before?  Had he not opened for her the gates of the forbidden land?  And was there after all, any actual reason that she should refuse to enter?  That land where the sun shone always and the flowers bloomed without fading!  That land where it was always spring!

There came in her soul a sudden swift ecstasy that was like the singing of many birds in the dawning, thrilling her through and through.  She rose from her bed as though in answer to a call, and went to her open window.

There before her, silver against the darkness, there shone a single star.  The throbbing splendour of it seemed to pierce her.  She held her breath as one waiting for a message.