Meanwhile, during most of the time that Mimi Salton had been moving warily along in the gloom, she was in reality being followed by Lady Arabella, who had caught sight of her leaving the house and had never again lost touch with her.  It was a case of the hunter being hunted.  For a time Mimi’s many turnings, with the natural obstacles that were perpetually intervening, caused Lady Arabella some trouble; but when she was close to Castra Regis, there was no more possibility of concealment, and the strange double following went swiftly on.

When she saw Mimi close to the hall door of Castra Regis and ascending the steps, she followed.  When Mimi entered the dark hall and felt her way up the staircase, still, as she believed, following Lady Arabella, the latter kept on her way.  When they reached the lobby of the turret-rooms, Mimi believed that the object of her search was ahead of her.

Edgar Caswall sat in the gloom of the great room, occasionally stirred to curiosity when the drifting clouds allowed a little light to fall from the storm-swept sky.  But nothing really interested him now.  Since he had heard of Lilla’s death, the gloom of his remorse, emphasised by Mimi’s upbraiding, had made more hopeless his cruel, selfish, saturnine nature.  He heard no sound, for his normal faculties seemed benumbed.

Mimi, when she came to the door, which stood ajar, gave a light tap.  So light was it that it did not reach Caswall’s ears.  Then, taking her courage in both hands, she boldly pushed the door and entered.  As she did so, her heart sank, for now she was face to face with a difficulty which had not, in her state of mental perturbation, occurred to her.

CHAPTER XXVII—­ON THE TURRET ROOF

The storm which was coming was already making itself manifest, not only in the wide scope of nature, but in the hearts and natures of human beings.  Electrical disturbance in the sky and the air is reproduced in animals of all kinds, and particularly in the highest type of them all—­the most receptive—­the most electrical.  So it was with Edgar Caswall, despite his selfish nature and coldness of blood.  So it was with Mimi Salton, despite her unselfish, unchanging devotion for those she loved.  So it was even with Lady Arabella, who, under the instincts of a primeval serpent, carried the ever-varying wishes and customs of womanhood, which is always old—­and always new.

Edgar, after he had turned his eyes on Mimi, resumed his apathetic position and sullen silence.  Mimi quietly took a seat a little way apart, whence she could look on the progress of the coming storm and study its appearance throughout the whole visible circle of the neighbourhood.  She was in brighter and better spirits than she had been for many days past.  Lady Arabella tried to efface herself behind the now open door.