Caswall moved to the door leading to the turret stair by which the roof was reached, and spoke in a peremptory way, whose tone alone made her feel defiant.

“Come!  I want you.”

She instinctively drew back—­she was not accustomed to such words, more especially to such a tone.  Her answer was indicative of a new contest.

“Why should I go?  What for?”

He did not at once reply—­another indication of his overwhelming egotism.  She repeated her questions; habit reasserted itself, and he spoke without thinking the words which were in his heart.

“I want you, if you will be so good, to come with me to the turret roof.  I am much interested in certain experiments with the kite, which would be, if not a pleasure, at least a novel experience to you.  You would see something not easily seen otherwise.”

“I will come,” she answered simply; Edgar moved in the direction of the stair, she following close behind him.

She did not like to be left alone at such a height, in such a place, in the darkness, with a storm about to break.  Of himself she had no fear; all that had been seemed to have passed away with her two victories over him in the struggle of wills.  Moreover, the more recent apprehension—­that of his madness—­had also ceased.  In the conversation of the last few minutes he seemed so rational, so clear, so unaggressive, that she no longer saw reason for doubt.  So satisfied was she that even when he put out a hand to guide her to the steep, narrow stairway, she took it without thought in the most conventional way.

Lady Arabella, crouching in the lobby behind the door, heard every word that had been said, and formed her own opinion of it.  It seemed evident to her that there had been some rapprochement between the two who had so lately been hostile to each other, and that made her furiously angry.  Mimi was interfering with her plans!  She had made certain of her capture of Edgar Caswall, and she could not tolerate even the lightest and most contemptuous fancy on his part which might divert him from the main issue.  When she became aware that he wished Mimi to come with him to the roof and that she had acquiesced, her rage got beyond bounds.  She became oblivious to any danger there might be in a visit to such an exposed place at such a time, and to all lesser considerations, and made up her mind to forestall them.  She stealthily and noiselessly crept through the wicket, and, ascending the stair, stepped out on the roof.  It was bitterly cold, for the fierce gusts of the storm which swept round the turret drove in through every unimpeded way, whistling at the sharp corners and singing round the trembling flagstaff.  The kite-string and the wire which controlled the runners made a concourse of weird sounds which somehow, perhaps from the violence which surrounded them, acting on their length, resolved themselves into some kind of harmony—­a fitting accompaniment to the tragedy which seemed about to begin.