“No, it’s nothing,” she said and against her will her eyes were drawn back to the staircase.  But Stella Ballantyne had disappeared and Margaret Pettifer drew her breath in relief.  She felt that there had been danger in her moment of passion, danger and shame; and already enough of those two evils waited about them.

Stella, meanwhile, with a glance towards Dick Hazlewood, had slipped back into the big room.  Then she waited for a moment until the door opened and Dick came in.

“I had not said good-night to you,” she exclaimed, coming towards him and giving him her hands, “and I wanted to say it to you here, when we were alone.  For I must thank you for to-night, you and your father.  Oh, I have no words.”

The tears were very near to her eyes and they were audible in her low voice.  Dick Hazlewood was quick to answer her.

“Good!  For there’s need of none.  Will you ride to-morrow?”

Stella took her hands from his and moved across the room towards the great bay window with its glass doors.

“I should love to,” she said.

“Eight.  Is that too early after to-night?”

“No, that’s the good time,” she returned with a smile.  “We have the day at its best and the world to ourselves.”

“I’ll bring the same horse round.  He knows you now, doesn’t he?”

“Thank you,” said Stella.  She unlatched the glass door and opened it.  “You’ll lock it after me, won’t you?”

“No,” said Dick.  “I’ll see you to your door.”

But Stella refused his company.  She stood in the doorway.

“There’s no need!  See what a night it is!” and the beauty of it crept into her soul and stilled her voice.  The moon rode in a blue sky, a disc of glowing white, the great cedar-trees flung their shadows wide over the bright lawns and not a branch stirred.

“Listen,” said Stella in a whisper and the river rippling against its banks with now a deep sob and now a fairy’s laugh sang to them in notes most musical and clear.  That liquid melody and the flutter of a bird’s wings in the bough of a tree were the only sounds.  They stood side by side, she looking out over the garden to the dim and pearly hills, he gazing at her uplifted face and the pure column of her throat.  They stood in a most dangerous silence.  The air came cool and fresh to their nostrils.  Stella drew it in with a smile.

“Good-night!” She laid her hand for a second on his arm.  “Don’t come with me!”

“Why not?”

And the answer came in a clear whisper: 

“I am afraid.”

Stella seemed to feel the man at her side suddenly grow very still.  “It’s only a step,” she went on quickly and she passed out of the window on to the pathway.  Dick Hazlewood followed but she turned to him and raised her hand.

“Don’t,” she pleaded; the voice was troubled but her eyes were steady.  “If you come with me I shall tell you.”