The housekeeper would not be stirring yet, perhaps, for an hour. He went
back to his study to write her some short directions covering the hours
of his possible absence.

The room, as he entered it, struck him as musty and airless, in spite of
the open lattice. Instinctively, before writing, he went to throw another
window wide. In rushed a fresh rose-scented air, and he leant forward an
instant, letting its cool current flow through him.

Something white caught his eye beneath the window.

* * * * *

Laura slowly raised her head.

Had she fallen asleep in her fatigue?

Helbeck, bending over her, saw her eyes unclose. She looked at him as she
had never looked before--with a sad and spiritual simplicity as though
she had waked in a world where all may tell the truth, and there are no
veils left between man and woman.

Her light hat fell back from her brow; her delicate pinched features,
with the stamp of suffering upon them, met his look so sweetly--so
frankly!

"I was _very_ tired," she said, in a new voice, a voice of appealing
trust. "And there was no door open."