Victor followed her closely, softly latching the door behind him. He had known from the outset that the English _madame_ would not be able to resist his appeal. Was not _Monsieur Pierre_ as handsome and as desirable as though he had been a prince of the blood? He walked a pace behind her, saying no word, fully satisfied with the success of his mission. Avery went with swift unerring feet; yet it seemed to her afterwards as if she had moved in a dream, for only the vaguest impression of that journey through the night remained with her. It was dark, but the darkness did not hinder her. She went as if drawn irresistibly--even against her will. At the back of her mind hovered the consciousness that she was doing a rash thing, but the woman's heart in it was too deeply stirred to care for minor considerations. The picture of Piers in his lonely hall hung ever before her, drawing her on. He had not sent for her. She knew now that he would not send. Yet she went to him on winged feet. For she knew that his need of her was great. There was no star in the sky and the night wind moaned in the trees as they went up the long chestnut avenue to the Abbey. The loneliness was great. It folded them in on every hand. It seemed to hang like a pall about the great dim building massed against the sky, as though the whole place lay beneath a spell of mourning. Emerging from the deep shadow of the trees, she paused for the first time in uncertainty. Victor pressed forward instantly to her side. "We will enter by the library, _madame_. See, I will show you the way. From there to the great hall, it is only a few steps. And you will find him there. I leave you alone to find him." He led her across a dew-drenched lawn and up a flight of steps to the door of a conservatory which gave inwards at his touch. Obedient to his gesture, Avery entered. Her heart was beating hard and fast. She was conscious of a wild misgiving which had not assailed her during all the journey thither. What if he did not want her after all? What if her coming were unwelcome? Silently Victor piloted her, and she could not choose but follow, though she felt sick with the sudden apprehension that had sprung to life as she left the sleeping world outside. She seemed to be leaving her freedom, all she valued, behind her as she entered this shadowy prison. And all for what? Her quivering heart could find no answer. There was a heavy scent of hothouse flowers in the air. She almost gasped for breath in the exotic fragrance of the unseen blossoms. A strong impulse possessed her to turn and flee by the way she had come. "_Madame!_" It was Victor's voice, low and entreating. He had opened an inner door, and stood waiting for her. Had he seen her wavering resolution, she wondered? Was he trying to hasten her ere it should wholly evaporate--to close the way of escape ere she could avail herself of it? Or was he anxious solely on Piers' account--lest after all she might arrive too late?