There came a day in spring when the desire mastered the fear that was
in her. It was a perfect afternoon, the air a-lilt with bird-songs,
and full of the perfume of early flowers. Her husband was ploughing in
a distant field, and surely would not return for an hour or two; what
might one not do in an hour? She called her little friend, Petie, who
was hovering about the door, watching for her. Quickly, with
fluttering breath, she told him what she meant to do, bade him be brave
and fear nothing; locked the door, drew down the blinds, and closed the
heavy wooden shutters; turned to the four corners of the room, bowing
to each corner, as she muttered some words under her breath; and then,
catching the child's hand in hers, began swiftly and lightly to mount
the attic stairs.




CHAPTER X.

DE AKTHENAY'S VIGIL.

Was it a _loup-garou_ in the attic? was it a _loup-garou_ that drew
that long, sighing breath, as of a soul in pain; was it a _loup-garou_
that now groped its way to the other staircase, that which led up from
the woodshed, pausing now and then, and going blindly, and breathing
still heavily and slow?

De Arthenay had come up to the attic in search of something, tools,
maybe, or seeds, or the like, for many odd things were stowed away
under the over-hanging rafters. He heard steps, and stood still,
knowing that it must be his wife who was coming up, and thinking to