She could not determine, but the urgency of his whisper moved her. She passed him and entered the room beyond. It was dimly lighted by a single shaded electric lamp that illumined a writing-table. She saw that it was the ancient library of the Abbey, a wonderful apartment which she knew to contain an almost priceless collection of old parchments. It was lined with bookshelves and had the musty smell inseparable from aged bindings. Victor motioned her silently to a door at the further end, but before either of them could reach it there came a sudden footfall on the other side, the handle turned sharply, and it opened. "Ah!" exclaimed Victor, and fell back as one caught red-handed in a crime. Avery stood quite motionless with her heart beating up against her throat, and a tragic sense of trespass overwhelming her. She could not find a single word to say, so sudden and so terrible was the ordeal. She could only wait in silence. Piers stood still as one transfixed, with eyes that blazed sleepless out of a drawn, pale face; then at length with a single snap of the fingers imperiously he dismissed Victor by the still open door. It closed discreetly upon the Frenchman's exit, and then only did Piers move forward; he came to Avery, drew her to a chair, knelt mutely down before her, and bowed his head upon her lap. CHAPTER XXXVII "LA GRANDE PASSION" She spoke to him at last, half-frightened by his silence, yet by his attitude wholly reassured. For he wanted her still, of that no doubt remained. His hands were clasped behind her. He could have held her in his arms; but he did not. He only knelt there at her feet in utter silence, his black head pillowed on her hands. "Piers!" she said. "Piers! Let me help you!" He groaned in answer, and she felt a great shiver run through him. She knew intuitively that he was battling for self-control and dared not for the moment show his face. "You--can't," he said at last. "But I think I can," she urged gently. "It isn't so very long ago that you wanted me." "I was an infernal blackguard to tell you so!" he made answer. And then suddenly his arms tightened about her, and he held her fast. "That you--you, Avery,--should come to me--like this!" he said. She freed one of her hands and laid it on his bent head. "Shall I tell you what made me come, Piers?" He shook his head in silence, but there was passion in the holding of his arms. For a space he continued to hold her so, speaking no word, and through his silence there came to her the quick, fierce beat of his heart. Then at length very suddenly, almost with violence, he flung his arms wide and started to his feet. "Avery," he said, "you were a saint to come to me like this. I shan't forget it ever. But there's nothing--nothing you can do, except leave me to my own devices. It's only just at first, you know, that the loneliness seems so--awful." His voice shook unexpectedly; he swung round away from her and walked to the end of the room.