THE SPELL


She hugged him to her heart in the darkness, all her fears swept away in
the immensity of her joy at his recovery.

"But, Cinders, how could you? How could you?" was the utmost reproof she
could find it in her heart to bestow upon the delinquent.

Cinders explained in his moist, eager way that it had been quite
unintentional, and that he was every whit as thankful to be back safe and
sound in her loving arms as she was to have him there. They discussed the
subject at length and forgave each other with considerable effusion,
eventually arriving at the conclusion that no blame attached to either.

And upon this arose the question, What of the Frenchman, Chris's _preux
chevalier_, who had so nobly adventured himself upon a fruitless quest?

"He promised he wouldn't be long," she reflected hopefully. "We shall
just have to wait till he turns up, that's all."

She would not suffer her rescued favourite to leave her arms again, and
they wiled away some time in the joy of reunion. But the minutes began to
drag more and more slowly, till at length anxiety came uppermost again.

Chris began to grow seriously uneasy. What could have happened to him?
Had he really lost his way? And if so what could she do?

Plainly nothing, but wait--wait--wait! And she was so tired of the
darkness; her eyes ached with it.