Mrs Dean's words broke up the party, and the visitors had nearly all gone, when, in answer to cold bathing and smelling-salts, Mrs Burnett began to recover; and just then Frank Burnett, who had been, no one but Isaac knew where, came up to make a fresh scene as he threw himself upon his knees beside the couch, imploring in maudlin tones his darling May to speak and tell him what it was. "Oh, my head, my head!" sobbed the stricken wife. "My head, my head!" "You'd better let her be, Mr Burnett, sir," said Mrs Barclay. "It's my belief that quiet's the thing." "Yes, and we'll go," said Mrs Dean. "Good-night, Miss Denville. Good-night, Mr Denville, and thank you so much. Come, Cora, love." Cora Dean glanced at Richard Linnell and Mellersh as she advanced to say good-night; for they were going to the same house, and it was possible, as the distance was short, that they would see them home. "Good-night, Mr Denville," she said. "We will say good-night too," said Mellersh, "unless we can be of any use." "Oh, no," said their host. "She will soon be better--a mere trifle." "Yes, please let me be," said Mrs Burnett. "I shall soon be better now." "Good-night," said Cora, holding out her hand to the woman she told herself she hated with all her heart. But it was in a spirit of triumph, for Richard Linnell was going to walk home with her. "Good-night," said Claire, smiling in her face with a calm ingenuous look. "I am glad we have met." How it came about they neither of them knew, but it was Claire's seeking; she was suffering so from that heart hunger--that painful searching for the love and sympathy of some woman of her age, while Cora Dean's handsome face was so near to her, and she kissed her as one sister might another. "Well, I never," muttered Mrs Dean as she went down the stairs. "Think of that, and you as don't like her." The next minute Cora Dean and her mother were walking along the Parade with Linnell and Mellersh on either side, chatting about the evening. "One cigar, Dick, before we go to bed," said Mellersh, when they had been sitting together in his room for some time, after parting from their upstairs neighbours. "I'm willing," said Linnell, "for I feel as if I could not sleep." They lit their cigars, let themselves out, strolled down to the edge of the water, walked along by it in front of the Parade, and went upon the cliff again, to go back silently along the path till they neared the house where they had passed the evening, walking very slowly, and ending by stopping to lean over the cliff rails and gaze out to sea. How long this had lasted they did not know, but all at once, as Mellersh turned, he gripped Richard Linnell by the arm and pointed. Linnell saw it at the same moment: the figure of a man climbing over a balcony; and as they watched they could just see the gleam of one of the windows as it was evidently opened and he passed in. "Dick!" whispered Mellersh; "what does that mean?"