“I am going up the mountain,” she said.  “It is moonlight, and I know the way.  I can rest when I get to the top.”

“Ah, be aisy, darlint!” urged the old woman.  “It’s much more likely he’ll come to ye if ye lie quiet.”

“No, he will not come to me.”  There was unalterable conviction in Isabel’s voice.  “It is I who must go to him.  If I had waited on the mountain I should never have missed him.  He is waiting for me there now.”

She flung off the bedclothes and rose, a gaunt, white figure from which all the gracious lines of womanhood had long since departed.  Her silvery hair hung in two great plaits from her shoulders, wonderful hair that shone in the shaded lamplight with a lustre that seemed luminous.

“Will I have to fetch Master Scott to ye?” said Biddy, eyeing her wistfully.  “He’s very tired, poor young man.  There’s two nights he’s had no sleep at all.  Won’t ye try and rest aisy for his sake, Miss Isabel darlint?  Ye can go up the mountain in the morning, and maybe that little Miss Bathurst will like to go with ye.  Do wait till the morning now!” she wheedled, laying a wiry old hand upon her.  “It’s no Christian hour at all for going about now.”

“Let me go!” said Isabel.

Biddy’s black eyes pleaded with a desperate earnestness.  “If ye’d only listen to reason, Miss Isabel!” she said.

“How can I listen,” Isabel answered, “when I can hear his voice in my heart calling, calling, calling!  Oh, let me go, Biddy!  You don’t understand, or you couldn’t seek to hold me back from him.”

“Mavourneen!” Biddy’s eyes were full of tears; the hand she had laid upon Isabel’s arm trembled.  “It isn’t meself that’s holding ye back.  It’s God.  He’ll join the two of ye together in His own good time, but ye can’t hurry Him.  Ye’ve got to bide His time.”

“I can’t!” Isabel said.  “I can’t!  You’re all conspiring against me.  I know—­I know!  Give me my cloak, and I will go.”

Biddy heaved a great sigh, the tears were running down her cheeks, but her face was quite resolute.  “I’ll have to call Master Scott after all,” she said.

“No!  No!  I don’t want Scott.  I don’t want anyone.  I only want to be up the mountain in time for the dawn.  Oh, why are you all such fools?  Why can’t you understand?” There was growing exasperation in Isabel’s voice.

Biddy’s hand fell from her, and she turned to cross the room.

Scott slept in the next room to them, and a portable electric bell which they adjusted every night communicated therewith.  Biddy moved slowly to press the switch, but ere she reached it Isabel’s voice stayed her.

“Biddy, don’t call Master Scott!”

Biddy paused, looking back with eyes of faithful devotion.

“Ah, Miss Isabel darlint, will ye rest aisy then?  I dursn’t give ye the quieting stuff without Master Scott says so.”

“I don’t want anything,” Isabel said.  “I only want my liberty.  Why are you all in league against me to keep me in just one place?  Ah, listen to that noise!  How wild those people are!  It is the same every night—­every night.  Can they really be as happy as they sound?”