Avery nodded and slipped away.

There was not much time left.  She ran all the way to the post-office and scribbled a message there with trembling fingers.

“Jeanie wants you.  Will you come?  Avery.”

She sent the message to Rodding Abbey.  She knew they would forward it from there.

Passing out again into the road, a sudden sense of sickness swept over her.  What had she done?  What uncontrolled force would that telegram unfetter?  Would he come to her like a whirlwind and sweep her back into his own tempestuous life?  Would he break her will once more to his?  Would he drag her once more through the hell of his passion, kindle afresh for her the flame that had consumed her happiness?

She dared not face the possibility.  She felt as if an iron hand had closed upon her, drawing her surely, irresistibly, back towards those gates of brass through which she had escaped into the desert.  That fiery torture would be infinitely harder to bear now, and she knew that the fieriest point of it all would be the desperate, aching longing to know again the love that had shone and burnt itself out in the blast-furnace of his sin.  He had loved her once; she was sure he had loved her.  But that love had died with his boyhood, and it could never rise again.  He had trodden it underfoot and her own throbbing heart with it.  He had destroyed that which she had always believed to be indestructible.

She never wanted to see him again.  She would have given all she had to have avoided the meeting.  Her whole being recoiled from the thought of it.  And yet—­and yet—­she saw again the black head laid against her knee, and heard the low, half-rueful words:  “Oh, my dear, there is no other woman but you in all the world!”

The vision went with her all through the night.  She could not escape it.

In the morning she rose with a sense of being haunted, and a terrible weariness that hung upon her like a chain.

The day was cooler.  Jeanie was better.  She had had a nice sleep, the nurse said.  But there could be no question of allowing her to leave her bed that day.

“You are looking so tired,” the nurse said, in her kind way to Avery.  “I am not wanting to go off duty till this afternoon.  So won’t you go and sit down somewhere on the rocks?  Please do!”

She was so anxious to gain her point that Avery yielded.  She felt too feverishly restless to be a suitable companion for Jeanie just then.  She went down to her favourite corner to watch the tide come in.  But she could not be still.  She paced the shore like a caged creature seeking a way of escape, dreading each turn lest it should bring her face to face with the man she had summoned.

The tide came in and drove her up the beach.  She went back not unwillingly, for the suspense had become insupportable.

Had he come?  But surely not!  She was convinced he would have followed her to the shore if he had.