She leant further out, inhaling the sweet, fragrant air in deep breaths, and sighing it out again…"Beautiful!-beautiful!…"

Then once more she became fascinated by the man.

"It can't be true. Such men don't exist-at least, nowadays. It's an optical illusion. If it were a real person he would answer us."

Judge hailed him again, but without result. A moment later, however, the man stooped to pick something up, and when he regained his sitting posture they caught a glimpse of a fiddle-shaped instrument in his hand, somewhat larger than a modern viola. Wasting no time in preliminaries, he swung his bow across it, and at once started to repeat the air they had heard already from the other room.

Isbel, drawing back a little, rested her elbow on the window-sill and her face on her elbow, in order better to concentrate her thoughts on the music. Judge retired altogether into the room, to make space for her. The tone of the instrument, notwithstanding its small size, was midway in depth between that of a violoncello and that of a contra-bass, and the low, slow scrape of its strings had a peculiarly disturbing effect upon her feelings. The theme had a strange, archaic flavour, as though it had come down through the centuries, yet it was so appropriate that Isbel could almost fancy it to be the voice of the landscape. It was hauntingly beautiful, and full of queer surprises; each long, sonorous note contained a world of music in itself, but it was the powerful, yet delicate and passionate thought slowly being developed as the air proceeded which stirred her so exceedingly.

While she stood listening, feelings which she had not had for ten years suddenly returned to her, and she realised, as in a flash, how far down the hill of life she had already travelled. That complex state of youth, composed of wildness, melancholy, audacity, inspiration, and hope, was momentarily restored to her, but only as a memory, as if for the purpose of mocking her…As the music finished, tears stood in her eyes, and her heart was choking, yet she was not unhappy…

Judge approached her from behind…"Isbel!"…

"It was like the voice of spring," she said, without turning round. "You are tortured, but you don't know what is happening to you."

"Music must have been like that at one time."

"Did you feel it, too?"

"It must be very, very old."…They hardly knew what they were saying to each other.

The musician had sunk back into a reclining position, so that only the crown of his head was visible. Isbel at last looked round. She caught sight of Judge's face, with its contracted muscles and pained expression, but instantly left that to glance at an envelope which he held in his hand.

"What have you there?"

He handed it to her. "I found it lying on the floor."

The envelope was addressed to Mrs. Richborough, at the Metropole, but its contents had been abstracted. On the back had been scribbled very roughly in ink the first few bars of the tune they had just heard.

"It has probably got blown down," suggested Judge. "She must have left it for the ink to dry, and forgotten it, in her alarm."

Isbel looked at it for some moments, and then slipped it in her hand-bag. "That woman will take notes on the Day of Judgement. But why shouldn't she? That music could have meant nothing to her."

"What does it mean to us?"

They stood close by the window, but not looking out. Isbel's face bore a singular smile.

"It means something, I think."

"What?"

"Do you feel nothing?"

"I feel great happiness, which I am striving not to account for."

"It means what spring means," said Isbel.

She suddenly threw both arms around his neck, clutching him tightly, but at the same time turning away in such a manner that it was the back of her hair only which brushed his cheek…When she disengaged herself violently a few seconds later, her face was hot, and she was in tears…

Judge breathed hard, and looked dark under the eyes, but he made no attempt to draw nearer.

"What's wrong, Isbel?"

"You are cruel!…"

"I cruel…?"

"Oh, go away from me-altogether!…"

She turned her back on him, and bent her head.

"Will you listen to me?…I have no right…"

"I know. You've told me a thousand times already…You put law first, love second."

"I demand a very small assurance from you, but that assurance I must have. Are you free now?"

"I won't say-I refuse to answer. I'll have everything, or nothing from you." She wheeled round furiously. "If I'm not worth that, I'm worth nothing at all…"

The scent of violets and primroses seemed to come in with the breeze through the open window, while Isbel's voice, like soft brass, thrilled the ear with its strange range of tones. She stood there, confronting him-a warm, passionate girl, in sweet clothes-as though she were a second self, his own soul reflected from a magic mirror. Among the whole world of human beings, they two alone possessed the entry into each other's innermost nature…That delicately-modelled woman's mouth, which had just uttered such words of scorn-if he pleased, in another instant it should break into the loveliest smiles…

As they faced one another in silence, the music out-of-doors recommenced without warning. It was the same everlasting tune. Isbel twitched impatiently, and abruptly turned her back on Judge again…But thjough the theme was the same, the execution was markedly different that she had to listen, despite her agitation. The playing was faster, higher, lighter, and staccato. The lingering, haunting sweetness was transformed into a delicate and triumphant dance; the very sunshine which flooded the room seemed suddenly to become more joyous and ethereal…Without understanding, or wishing to understand, how the change had been effected, she felt her brow clearing, her heart lightening…

Judge waited until the last note had died down, and then said, in a low voice:

"I find I'm not as strong as I thought I was…so I'm yours, to do what you like with. Tell me to jump out of the window, and I'll do it. You're the only person in the world for me."

Chapter XVI THE MUSICIAN DEPARTS

Isbel commenced unbuttoning her left-hand glove, with slightly trembling fingers.

"Something is to go out our the window, but not you," She removed the diamond ring from her third finger, and eyed it pensively, before handing it to him…"Throw it out! Let strange find strange. I never should have worn it."

"Better to return it to the giver."

"As long as I carry it about with me, I haven't cast off the past. Do as I say. That episode is finished."

Judge, without further demur, took the ring to the window and dropped it out.

"That's done!" said Isbel, drawing a deep breath. "We shall have no more anxiety from that quarter."

Raising her ungloved hand, he bent over and kissed it submissively. She offered no resistance, but closed her eyes, as if to think the better, reopening them only when he had relinquished her fingers.

"Had your wife been still alive, would you have done as much for my sake, I wonder?"

"Don't doubt it. I would have sacrificed everything. But let the poor girl rest in peace. Fortunately, my loyalty wasn't put to the test during her lifetime."

"That magic word 'loyalty'! How can we be loyal to those to whom we don't naturally belong? You mean, fortunately you were enabled to act a living lie with her, without either of you suspecting the fact…You know you never loved her."

"What has been, has been. Whatever we felt towards each other, after all, she ws my dear companion. You can't grudge her that."

Isbel laughed lightly. "I grudge her nothing. If you assured me you loved her, even I should accept your word…But you didn't. Love doesn't come twice in a lifetime…However, to avoid competition, it seems I must aim at higher things than being a mere dear companion."