At this point articulate utterance ceased, her face fell forward on the coverlet because her eyes were streaming with tears. It was to her such a solemn and beautiful thought that she would before very long be Rodney Elmore's wife that she trembled with the very rapture of it, so that she could no longer even go on with her prayers. * * * * * When Mr. Elmore reached his lodgings, with the exception of the light in his sitting-room, the house was in darkness. But if that signified that the household had retired to rest, it did not follow that everyone was asleep, as he was presently to learn. He had only been in his room a couple of minutes when the door opened noiselessly--to admit Miss Joyce. Coming right in, she stood with her back to the door, which she closed behind her. She was in a state of undress which did not become her ill. As he eyed her Rodney compared her, mentally, with Stella; not to her disadvantage. She really was a good-looking girl; only--he did not like the look which was on her white face and in her eyes. He felt sure someone would notice it, and questions would be asked. She spoke in so faint a whisper that what she said was only just audible; his voice was lowered in sympathy with hers. "Mother's come back." "Has she? That's good hearing. I hope she had a good time at your aunt's." "I've got the licence." "The----? Oh, have you? That also is good hearing." "It cost me two pounds four and six." "Did it? I hope you consider it to be worth the money." "I've fixed it for Thursday at noon." "Noon? Isn't that--rather an unfashionable hour?" "Mind you're there! You've promised! I've got your promise." "Am I likely to forget--the circumstances under which you got my promise?" "If you're not there you'll be sorry." "Honestly, Mabel, I think we shall both of us be sorry." "You will! There's--there's another thing; I--I want to warn you." "Warn me? Haven't you done that once or twice already?" "I--I want to warn you against Mr. Dale." "Against Mr. Dale? Why?" "I believe he suspects." "Suspects? What? About you and me?" "About--your uncle." "What does he suspect about my uncle?" "He's been finding out things. Ssh! there's someone moving. Perhaps it's mother; she mustn't find me here, like this." She flitted from the room as noiselessly as she had entered, shutting the door without its making a sound. He stood and listened. Perhaps it was her conscience which had made her fancy noises--all seemed still. If she had ascended to her room on the landing, a ghost could not have moved more silently. CHAPTER XX THE FIRST LINE OF AN OLD SONG