“I can’t see any one, my head is too bad; tell Bertie so.  I am going to lock the door, and go to bed.”

But she only threw herself on it.  The light waned and darkened, and the moon arose.  Then Cecil stole cautiously to the window and watched.  Presently Du Meresq came out alone, and she knew he was on his way to the boat.  He would look up, she was sure, and she entrenched herself behind the curtain.  By the light of the moon she saw his gaze rivet itself on her window, as though it would pierce the gloom.  His face was strangely pale, and even sad, and her rebellious heart throbbed wildly as she felt how perilously dear he still was to her.  He turned away.  Whatever he wore or did, there was a picturesque grace about him, thought Cecil; and as his boat became smaller and smaller in the distance, she wished, in the bitterness of her heart, they had both sunk in the squall of yesterday, e’er she had discovered how falsely he had lied to her.

Lola again disturbed her.  “Papa says he is coming up in ten minutes to see you.  Bertie told me to tell you he was very sorry you would not speak to him, or say good-bye.”

Lola had dined late, it being her birthday, and wore Cecil’s locket on a ribbon, but she looked scared and depressed.  “It was so dull downstairs,” she said.  “Mamma had gone away after dinner, and talked a long time to Bluebell.  Bertie had not come out of the dining room till it was time to go, and she had had no one to speak to but Miss Prosody—­not a bit like a birthday.”

“Lola,” said Cecil, much too preoccupied to attend to her complaints, “has the letter bag gone down to the boat yet?”

“I saw it still open in the passage.”

“Then run down quick with this big letter—­you understand?  Don’t stop to speak to any one, but put it in the bag and come back and tell me when it is done.”

The child looked at the address “Why, Cecil,” said she, curiously, “this is for Bertie!  What a pity I couldn’t have given it to him before he went!  What a lot of postage stamps it takes!”

“Never mind, dear, run away with it,” anxiously.

Lola was but just in time before the Colonel came out, locked the bag, and went upstairs to his daughter.

Pre-occupied as he was, he was startled at her changed appearance.  A shawl was thrown around her, and she appeared shivering, while a fever spot burned on either cheek.  The Colonel was alarmed and irritated.  “It is all that folly yesterday.  Have your fire lit, and go to bed, but I must say a word or two first.”

No assistance from Cecil, he took a turn or two about the room, surprised at her apathy.  It was very difficult to begin, he wished to be kind, but was determined to be firm.  How indifferent she seemed.  Perhaps she would not care so very much.

“Cecil,” he began, “you will guess what I wish to speak about.  I don’t know whether I was more surprised or annoyed at Du Meresq’s preposterous proposal for you to-night.”