Of course my future movements were uncertain. I must speak to Eric first, and induce him to reopen communications with his family. I would tell him how his brother grieved over his supposed death, how changed he was; and he should hear, too, of Gladys's failing health and spirits. I should not be wanting in eloquence on that subject. If he loved Gladys he would not refuse to listen to me. After a time I tried to set aside these thoughts, and to occupy myself with dressing for the evening. We had a dinner-party that night. Mrs. Fullerton and Lesbia were to be of the party. They were going down to Rutherford the next day, so I should have to bid them good-bye. The evening was very tedious and wearisome to me: my head ached, and the glitter of lights and the sound of many voices seemed to bewilder me. Lesbia came up after dinner to ask if I were not well, I was so pale and quiet. We sat out on the balcony together in the starlight for a little while, until Mrs. Fullerton called Lesbia in. I would gladly have remained there alone, drinking in the freshness of the night dews, but Jill came out and began chattering to me, until I went back with her into the room. There was very little sleep for me that night. When at last I fell into a dose, I was tormented by a succession of miserable dreams. I was following a supposed Eric down long country roads in the darkness. Something seemed always to retard me: my feet were weighted with lead, invisible hands were pulling me back. I heard him whistling in the distance, then I stumbled, and a black bog engulfed me, and I woke with a stifled cry. I woke to the knowledge that the sun was streaming in at my windows, and that some sound like a falling plank had roused me from my uneasy slumbers. It must be past six o'clock, I thought; surely the men must be at work. Yes, I could hear their voices; and the next moment I had jumped out of bed, and was dressing myself with all possible haste. It was nearly seven when I crept down into the drawing-room to reconnoitre the adjoining house. As I unfastened the window I heard the same sweet whistling that had arrested my attention yesterday. Without a moment's hesitation I walked out on the balcony. The young painter looked round in some surprise at the sound of my footsteps, and touched his cap with a half-smile. 'It is a beautiful morning,' I began nervously, for I wanted to make him speak. 'Have you been at work long?' 'Ever since six o'clock,' he returned, and I think he was a little surprised at hearing himself addressed. 'We work early these light mornings.' And then he took up his brush and went on painting. I watched him for a minute or two without a word. How was I to proceed? My presence seemed to puzzle him. Perhaps he wondered why a lady should take such interest in his work. I saw him glance at me uneasily.