How long she had sat there she did not know, till she heard the church clock chiming the hour of twelve, and thought to herself that it was time she lay down on her bed. But just as she was about to do so, her attention was arrested by the figure of a woman walking slowly and furtively over the grass beneath the window. Nell did not know who she was, nor what she came for; but not unnaturally supposing that she would not be there at that time of night unless she needed the assistance of her mother or herself in some sudden emergency, she waited quietly until the stranger should knock or call out in order to summons her. To her surprise, however, the woman did not go round to the principal entrance to the farmhouse, but lingered about the grass-plat, walking backwards and forwards, and occasionally glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the Hall. Nell’s curiosity was now fully aroused, but she made no sign to arrest the attention of the visitor. On the contrary, she drew further back from the window, so as to be entirely concealed by the dimity curtain that shaded it. From this vantage-ground she presently saw the woman joined by a man, who she at once recognised as Mr Portland. Nell’s first feeling was indignation that he should presume to make her mother’s house a place of assignation; but when he commenced to talk, she could only listen, spellbound. CHAPTER V. ‘And so you have kept your word, my lady,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘Had you any doubt that I should do so?’ she answered. ‘It would not have been the first time if you had broken it,’ was the sarcastic rejoinder. ‘Now, look here Jack,’ said the woman, ‘you have not brought me here at this time of night to upbraid me for the inevitable past, surely? You must know that I run a fearful risk in coming here. You must know also that only one object on earth would have brought me. Be merciful as you are great, and don’t keep me fooling my time away in order to listen to your platitudes. Isn’t the subject of our former relations with each other rather stale?’ ‘It will never be stale to me, Nora,’ replied Mr Portland; ‘and the melancholy fact that you preferred Ilfracombe to myself is not likely to make me forget it.’ ‘_Ilfracombe!_’ thought Nell, from her post of observation, ‘can this really be the countess? Oh, how grossly she must be deceiving him. Prefer Ilfracombe to him! Why, of course it _must_ be she. I will hear every word they say now, if I die for it.’ ‘That is nonsense,’ resumed Nora, ‘you never really cared for me, Jack; and if you did, the sentiment has died long ago. Don’t let us twaddle, pray, but come to business.’ ‘I thought the twaddle (as you call it) was part of our business, but I am willing to let it drop. What has your ladyship to say next?’ ‘I want to ask you something which I have been afraid to mention with so many eavesdroppers as we have round us at the Hall. You knew that _chère amie_ of Ilfracombe’s--Miss Llewellyn--of course.’