There was a pleasant alternation of firelight and shadow in the long double room, the flames leaping up every now and then, and lighting wall and bookcase, picture and bust, the blue and red of the Mandarin jars, and the golden storks on the black Japanese screen; but it was such a capricious light that it did not show Allegra some one sitting _perdu_ in Martin Disney’s deep elbow chair, a person who sat and watched her with an admiring smile, as she flung off her little felt hat and fur cape, and stretched her arms above her head in sheer weariness, a graceful, picturesque figure, in her plain brown serge gown, belted round the supple waist, and clasped at the throat, like Enid’s, and with never an ornament except the oxydized silver clasps, and the serviceable chatelaine hanging at her side. The tea-table was set ready in front of the fire, the large Moorish tray on bamboo legs. But there was no sign of Isola; so Miss Leland poured out a cup of tea and began to drink it, still unconscious of a pair of dark eyes watching her from the shadow of the big armchair. “And am I to have no tea, Miss Leland?” asked a voice out of the darkness. Allegra gave a little scream, and almost dropped her cup. “Good gracious!” she exclaimed. “How can you startle any one like that? How do you know that I have not heart disease?” “I would as soon suspect the goddess Hygeia of that, or any other ailment,” said Captain Hulbert, rising to his full six feet two, out of the low chair in the dark corner by the bookcase. “Forgive me for my bearishness in sitting here while you were in the room. I could not resist the temptation to sit and watch you for a minute or two while you were unconscious of my presence. It was like looking at a picture. While you are talking I am so intent upon what you say, and what you think, that I almost forget to consider what you are like. To-night I could gaze undistracted.” “What absolute nonsense you talk,” said Allegra, with the sugar-tongs poised above the basin. “One lump--or two?” “One, two, three--anything you like--up to a million.” “Do you know that you nearly made me break a tea-cup--one of mother’s dear old Worcester tea-cups? I should never have forgiven you.” “But as you didn’t drop the tea-cup, I hope you do forgive me for my stolen contemplation, for sitting in my corner there and admiring you in the firelight?” “Firelight is very becoming. No doubt I looked better than in the daytime.” “And you forgive me?” “I suppose so. It is hardly worth while to be angry with you. I shall be a thousand miles away next week. I could not carry my resentment so far. It would cool on the journey.” “A thousand miles is not far for the _Vendetta_, Miss Leland. She would make light of crossing the Pacific--for a worthy motive.” “I don’t know anything about motives; but I thought you were fairly established at the Mount, and that you had made an end of your wanderings.”