Time passed, and still Evarne sat motionless--thinking, thinking. In the first dreadful minutes of solitude she had been conscious of very little save cruel, crushing despair, the most abject hopelessness. Her one other clearly defined idea had been that she must not, dare not, allow the wild paroxysm of anguish that was rending her brain, to get the mastery over her will-power. Fiercely resolved not to lose self-control even for a moment, she forced herself to sit calm and motionless, to drive back tears, to stifle sobs, groans, cries. And in time this resolutely simulated composure became very nearly genuine. Gradually she found herself growing able to think rationally, not desperately. Thus there was some chance for a practical idea--an inspiration--to evolve itself from out the rapid progression of her thoughts. She was possessed of a quiet obstinacy that would not--that could not--acknowledge final defeat so long as the most shadowy possibility of ultimate success remained. The feeblest glimmer of hope was sufficient to support her courage, her energies. Now, although the end appeared to be so near, although she was faced by obstacles that certainly looked insurmountable, she could not bring herself to submit with meekness and resignation to what so surely seemed to be written in her fate. Thus, still rebellious, she sat thinking, thinking. But no plan of possible action occurred to her mind. What could be done in two days to still a man's tongue, when prayers and entreaties and threats had all alike failed absolutely? The only method yet untried was that of bribery, and there she was a bankrupt. She had nothing to offer--absolutely no inducement to hold out. Slowly but surely the conviction forced itself upon her calmer reflection that she could indeed do no more; that she was hopelessly in Morris's power. She felt herself enveloped by a fresh access of despair. What a dire misfortune--what a fearsome calamity--that he should have come upon the scene just at this crisis. He had declared almost with certainty that had he found her already his cousin's wife he would have held his peace. Why, oh why, had he not been kept out of her path for two short months longer--just until she was indeed safely married? Suddenly she started to her feet, her eyes glistening, her expression eager and alert. At length a light shone in the dense gloom--in the tangled jungle a path had been found. At this moment Philia was heard opening the street door. The old woman made straight for the sitting-room, declaring as she came-- "Edie Gordon didn't know what pattern----" The words died on her lips as she beheld Evarne. "My gosh, whatever made yer dress up pretty like that, to spend the evenin' alone?" Then she added in a tone of sudden suspicion: "Seems to me there's somethin' goin' on in this 'ere 'ouse what I don't know of! What 'ave I bin and done, to be kept in the dark about everythin' like this for?"