When she reached the dining-room and saw the bright faces at the table, Miss Sabrina looking younger than she had looked for years, and wearing the white lace cape, Cicely, too, freshly dressed, and Ferdinand, they seemed to her like phantasmagoria. Or was it that these were the realities, and the phantasms the frightful visions which had haunted her nightly during all these waiting weeks? As Ferdie talked (already Miss Sabrina had begun to call him Ferdie), it was impossible not to listen; there was a frankness in what he said, and in his sunny smile, which was irresistibly winning. And the contrast between these and his height and strength--this too was attractive. They sat long at the table; Eve felt that she was the foreign element, not he; that she was the stranger within their gates. She had made no change in her dress; suddenly it occurred to her that Ferdie must hate her for her mourning garb, which of course would bring Jack Bruce to his mind. As she thought of this, she looked at him. His eyes happened to meet hers at the moment, and he gave her a charming smile. No, there was no hate there. In the drawing-room, later, he told them comical stories of South America; he took Cicely's guitar and sang South American songs; the three women sat looking at him, Cicely in her mute bliss, Miss Sabrina with her admiration and her interest, Eve with her perplexity. His hand, touching the strings, was well-shaped, powerful; was that the hand which had struck a woman? A little child? As the evening wore on, she almost began to believe that Cicely had invented the whole of her damning tale; that the baby's arm had never been broken, and that her own hurts had been received in some other way. She looked at Cicely. But there was something very straightforward in her pure little face. At ten o'clock she rose. Cicely made no motion, she was evidently not coming with her. "Can I speak to you for a moment, Cicely?" "Oh, yes," answered Cicely, with alacrity. "What is it?" She followed Eve into the hall. Eve closed the door; then she drew her into the dining-room, which was still lighted. "You said he would not come here." "Oh!" with a long breath; "he never would do it for me before, though I asked him, and asked him. And yet he has done it now! Think of that!" Eve put her hands on Cicely's shoulders as if to keep her, to call her back to realities. "Have you forgotten all you said that night at Mrs. Cray's?" Cicely gave a joyful laugh. "Yes." Then, more defiantly, "Yes, I have forgotten the whole!" But her tone changed back swiftly to its happy confidence again: "Nothing will happen, Eve; you needn't be afraid." "Has he told you so?" "Oh, we never _speak_ of it," answered Cicely, looking at her with large, surprised eyes. "Did you think we _spoke_ of it--of such a thing as that? A husband and wife--people who love each other? But you needn't be troubled; it's over forever." She disappeared.