"Oh, no; I shall return by the lower walk, which is safer and shorter. What is your name?" "Reynolds, my lady." "Good-night, Reynolds; and please do not mention my visit to any one." "Except to his lordship--" "No; not even to him, Reynolds. It would only pain him to know that his friends were observing his changed estate. You understand?" "I do, my lady, but--" "But, Reynolds, I ask you to do this for my sake," and again the smile beamed, the white hand was extended, and the subtle seductiveness of beauty had its way once more. Men are never so old, so humble, or so ignorant as to be insensible to the charm. Faithful old Reynolds took the lovely soft hand in both of his, and bent his white head and kissed it. "Even he shall not know," he said; and the next moment she was gone--this time not across the moonlit field path to the cliff, but into the dark shadows of the woods on the other side of the lodge. Reynolds watched her till she was lost in the gloom, and then returned to the lodge, closed the door, and started toward the cliff walk. The old man was strangely excited over this first visit of his master to "his own house," and he could not rest till he had seen the end of it. But, before he had crossed the first field leading to the cliffs his mysterious visitor had returned to the lodge. She had changed her mind as she walked toward Ripon House, had resolved to see Geoffrey that night, let old Reynolds learn what he might, and she had returned. She called Reynolds in a low voice once or twice; then she opened the door and entered the lodge. The place was empty. She went to the side door of Geoffrey's sitting-room through the little hallway and stepped out on the disused piazza, and from there she saw the old servant on his way to the cliffs. She was about to follow him but she checked herself suddenly. "No! this is unexpectedly fortunate. The fates are in my favor--so far, at least. Ah me! what will they say presently?" Turning from the window in a softened mood, she looked at the room with a new look. She saw across the chair, which she knew was Geoffrey's, his old shooting-jacket, and she took it in her hands with a tender feeling, hardly knowing what she did. Holding it within her arms she stood with lowered head and a dreamy look in her eyes. While in this mood her glance fell on the old sword which lay on the table, still with the slip of paper tied to the hilt. She took it up and read the scroll. Holding the jacket and the sword, she sat in Geoffrey's chair and stared into the fire, with a smile, as if half enjoying her own audacity. In a few minutes she heard a footstep, and presently the old servant entered the outer room, which was the kitchen of the lodge. She sat still, waiting till she saw him enter and start at her appearance, and ready to smile his impressionable old soul into quietude.