Creeping up the sloping, snow-covered roof of the veranda, he came at length to the window, and looked in. The chamber was empty, but the door was ajar that led to the apartment in front, used as a sitting-room. She must be in that room, for his first glance had recognised many of her trinkets and possessions in the first chamber. He asked himself if the years had changed her: they would have made her a little graver, doubtless. He opened the window so slowly that the noise was scarce perceptible. Then he clambered over the ledge into the chamber; strode tiptoe toward the next room, catching a mirrored glimpse of his face as he passed her dressing-table--the most joyous, eager face in the world. He pushed the door further open, and stepped across the threshold. She was there, in the centre of the room, standing in meditation, her face turned by chance toward the door through which he entered. "My dear," said he, in a voice scarce above a whisper; and started toward her, with arms held out, and (I am sure) a very angel's smile of joy and love upon his face. She opened her eyes and lips in wonder, and then stood pale and rigid as marble, and made a faint gesture to check his approach. As he halted in astonishment, his joy dying at her look, she whispered hoarsely: "You! You, of all men? And to-night, of all nights!" 'Twas the night of our setting forth upon her great design of seizing his commander-in-chief. CHAPTER XII. _Their Interview._ Philip took note, at the time, rather of her look than of her words. "Why, dear," said he, "don't be frightened. Tis I, Philip--'tis not my ghost." "Yes, 'tis you--I know that well enough." "Then--" he began, and stepped toward her. But she retreated with such a movement that he stopped again. "What's the matter?" he questioned. "Why do you look so?--This is scarce the welcome I had imagined." "Why are you here?" she asked, in a low voice, regarding him steadily. "How did you come? What does it mean?" "It means I love you so much, I could stay no longer from seeing you. I came by horse, boat, and foot. I passed the British sentries." "You risked your life, then?" "Oh, of course. If they caught me inside their lines, they would hang me as a spy. But--" She could not but be touched at this. "Poor Philip!" she murmured, with a tremor in her voice. "Not poor," said he, "now that I am with you--if you would not draw back, and look so. What is wrong? Am I--unwelcome?"