But it was only momentary. Stung into action by the feeling that this woman was cruelly wronging and disgracing brother and sister, he rose from his place, took half-a-dozen quick strides, and was over the grass and at Leo's elbow as she clung to the side of the summer-house, and was about to raise herself higher. The sound of his approach was covered by the noise Leo made in rustling the growth pressed against her breast, and the first hint she had of discovery was a strong, firm hand grasping her delicate shoulder with almost painful violence. She could not turn her head so as to confront Salis, for she was above the ground, clinging with outstretched arms to the strong trellis-work of the summer-house, but she uttered a low, hoarse cry, and a shiver ran through her as she felt the touch. "Horace North!" she hissed, with her chin pressed down upon her breast. "You are a mean coward and spy. Oh, if I were a man!" Salis could not speak for a moment or two as he heard this confirmation of his belief, but he tightened his grasp till Leo uttered a cry of pain. "You coward!" she hissed again. "It is not Horace North," said Salis, in a deep voice. "Thank Heaven he does not know of this." "Hartley!" "Yes, Hartley!" "And North has told you?" "Nothing!" He half dragged her down, and kept his grasp upon her shoulder till she was inside the drawing-room and he had closed the window. "You can go up to your bedroom by the stairs," he said sternly, "without stealing in like a thief. Had some one told me of this to my face I should have said he lied." "There, say what you have to say, and end this scene," cried Leo, defiantly now. "I have nothing to say--now," said Salis sternly. "Oh, say it! I am not a child." "I am under a promise to Mary that I will say nothing now." Salis knew that she turned upon him very sharply, but he could not see her face. "Under a promise to Mary? There, if anything is to be said, say it." Salis drew in his breath sharply, and the words came rushing to his lips, but he mastered the passion within him, and walked to the door to open it. A dim twilight now faintly filled the hall, showing the curate's figure framed in the doorway. Then he stood aside, holding the way open. "Go!" he said. "Sent to bed like a naughty child," she cried, in a harsh, mocking voice, which feebly hid the anger and defiance by which she was nerved. Salis made no reply, nor did he speak again for some moments. "Go to your room," he said again, more sternly. Leo made an angry gesture as if she would resist. Then, giving a childish, petulant stamp upon the floor, she walked quickly by him and ascended the stairs, Salis following closely behind. As they reached the landing, it was to find Mary's door open, and that the half-helpless invalid had dragged herself there, to stand clinging to the side. "Leo--Hartley," she said, in a low, pained voice: "come here."