The weather drew off at last, and the rain abated sufficiently to allow us to emerge from our asylum and make our way back to the inn, where we found on our arrival that our prolonged absence had produced some agitation. It was judged apparently that the fury of the elements might have placed us in a predicament. Several of our friends were at the door, and they seemed a little disconcerted when it was perceived that we were only drenched. Clare Vawdrey, for some reason, was wetter than I, and he took his course to his room. Blanche Adney was among the persons collected to look out for us, but as Vawdrey came toward her she shrank from him, without a greeting; with a movement that I observed as almost one of estrangement she turned her back on him and went quickly into the salon. Wet as I was I went in after her; on which she immediately flung round and faced me. The first thing I saw was that she had never been so beautiful. There was a light of inspiration in her face, and she broke out to me in the quickest whisper, which was at the same time the loudest cry, I have ever heard: "I've got my _part!_" "You went to his room--I was right?" "Right?" Blanche Adney repeated. "Ah, my dear fellow!" she murmured. "He was there--you saw him?" "He saw me. It was the hour of my life!" "It must have been the hour of his, if you were half as lovely as you are at this moment." "He's splendid," she pursued, as if she didn't hear me. "He _is_ the one who does it!" I listened, immensely impressed, and she added: "We understood each other." "By flashes of lightning?" "Oh, I didn't see the lightning then!" "How long were you there?" I asked with admiration. "Long enough to tell him I adore him." "Ah, that's what I've never been able to tell him!" I exclaimed ruefully. "I shall have my part--I shall have my part!" she continued, with triumphant indifference; and she flung round the room with the joy of a girl, only checking herself to say: "Go and change your clothes." "You shall have Lord Mellifont's signature," I said. "Oh, bother Lord Mellifont's signature! He's far nicer than Mr. Vawdrey," she went on irrelevantly. "Lord Mellifont?" I pretended to inquire. "Confound Lord Mellifont!" And Blanche Adney, in her elation, brushed by me, whisking again through the open door. Just outside of it she came upon her husband; whereupon, with a charming cry of "We're talking of you, my love!" she threw herself upon him and kissed him.