post, the housekeeper wrote to Miss Garth. The
letter merely acknowledged, with thanks, the
receipt of Miss Garth's communication; and
informed her that, in a few days, Mrs. Lecount
hoped to be in a position to write again, and
summon Mr. Pendril to Aldborough.

Late in the evening, when the parlour at North
Shingles began to get dark, and when the captain
rang the bell for candles, as usual, he was
surprised by hearing Magdalen's voice in the
passage, telling the servant to take the lights down
stairs again. She knocked at the door
immediately afterwards; and glided into the obscurity
of the room, like a ghost."

"I have a question to ask you about your
plans for to-morrow," she said. " My eyes are
very weak this evening, and I hope you will not
object to dispense with the candles for a few
minutes."

She spoke in low stifled tones, and felt her
way noiselessly to a chair far removed from the
captain, in the darkest part of the room. Sitting
near the window, he could just discern the dim
outline of her dress, he could just hear the faint
accents of her voice. For the last two days he
had seen nothing of her, except during their
morning walk. On that afternoon, he had found
his wife crying in the little back room down stairs.
She could only tell him that Magdalen had
frightened her—that Magdalen was going the
way again which she had gone when the letter
came from China, in the terrible past time at
Vauxhall Walk.

"I was sorry to hear that you were ill, to-day,
from Mrs. Wragge," said the captain,
unconsciously dropping his voice almost to a whisper
as he spoke.

"It doesn't matter," she answered quietly, out
of the darkness. "I am strong enough to suffer,
and live. Other girls, in my place, would have
been happier—they would have suffered, and
died. It doesn't matter; it will be all the same
a hundred years hence. Is he coming again
to-morrow morning, at seven o'clock?"

"He is coming, if you feel no objection to it?"

"I have no objection to make; I have done
with objecting. But I should like to have the
time altered. I don't look my best in the early
morning—I have bad nights, and I rise haggard
and worn. Write him a note this evening, and
tell him to come at twelve o'clock."

"Twelve is rather late, under the
circumstances, for you to be seen out walking."

"I have no intention of walking. Let him be
shown into the parlour "——

Her voice died away in silence, before she
ended the sentence.

"Yes?" said Captain Wragge.

"And leave me alone in the parlour to receive
him."

"Ay! ay!" said the captain. "I understand.
I'll be out of the way, in the dining-room,
while he is here—and you can come and tell me
about it when he has gone."

There was another moment of silence.

"Is there no way but telling you?" she
asked, suddenly. "I can control myself while
he is with me—but I can't answer for what I
may say or do, afterwards. Is there no other
way?"

"Plenty of ways," said the captain. "Here
is the first that occurs to me. Leave the blind
down over the window of your room up-stairs,
before he comes. I will go out on the beach, and
wait there within sight of the house. When I
see him come out again, I will look at the
window. If he has said nothing, leave the
blind down. If he has made you an offer—
draw the blind up. The signal is simplicity
itself; we can't misunderstand each other. Look
your best to-morrow! Make sure of him, my
dear girl—make sure of him, if you possibly
can."

He had spoken loud enough to feel certain that
she had heard him—but no answering word came
from her. The dead silence was only disturbed
by the rustling of her dress, which told him she
had risen from her chair. Her shadowy presence
crossed the room again; the door shut softly—
she was gone. He rang the bell hurriedly
for the lights. The servant found him standing
close at the window—looking less self-possessed
than usual. He told her he felt a little
poorly, and sent her to the cupboard for the
brandy.

At a few minutes before twelve, the next day,
Captain Wragge withdrew to his post of observation
—concealing himself behind a fishing-boat
drawn up on the beach. Punctually as the
hour struck, he saw Mr. Noel Vanstone
approach North Shingles, and open the garden
gate. When the house door had closed on the
visitor, Captain Wragge settled himself comfortably
against the side of the boat, and lit his
cigar.

He smoked for half an hour—for ten minutes
over the half-hour, by his watch. He finished
the cigar down to the last morsel of it that he
could hold in his lips. Just as he had thrown
away the end, the door opened again; and Noel
Vanstone came out.

The captain looked up instantly at Magdalen's
window. In the absorbing excitement of the
moment, he counted the seconds. She might get
from the parlour to her own room in less than
a minute. He counted to thirty—and
nothing happened. He counted to fifty—and
nothing happened. He gave up counting, and
left the boat impatiently, to return to the
house.

As he took his first step forward he saw the
signal.

The blind was drawn up.

Cautiously ascending the eminence of the
beach, Captain Wragge looked towards Sea-View
Cottage, before he showed himself on the
parade. Mr. Noel Vanstone had reached home
again: he was just entering his own door.