Her heart sang as she saw him approaching her from higher up. He was only a short distance away. Still further back, behind him, she caught a glimpse of the gaily-dressed musician. He was lying on his side, head uphill, back towards her, apparently asleep; hiss fiddle-shaped instrument was beside him. Isbel gave him a silent welcome, but at that moment Henry was the more wonderful vision of the two. She had no real eyes for anything but him.

They hastened to each other with outstretched hands.

"You heard me this time?" laughed Henry, enfolding her and looking down into her eyes.

"My ears throbbed-was that really you?…Oh, Henry, what a terribly narrow escape we've had! How could we have been so absolutely insane? Surely we must have know that that ring was not thrown away for nothing?…"

"Some kind fate is watching over us, evidently. Whether we deserve it by our stupidity is quite another matter…However, you see now I'm not so mad as you thought I was?"

"It's heaven, I think. But is it true?…Where has the house gone to?"

"We're in the house."

Even while they were speaking, the brightness of the day began perceptibly to fade, almost as though a solar eclipse were creeping on. The sun became obscured by haze, the blue of the sky grew paler and paler, thin mists commenced again to crawl about the lower regions. The wind dropped, and a sort of hush came over the scene. The birds sang more fitfully.

"It's getting darker," whispered Isbel, with a slight shiver, uneasily drawing her fur closer to her.

"No, no. Dismiss the possibility. It can't change now." His strong-featured face smiled down at her protectingly.

"Let's hope not…How do you mean-'we're in the house'?"

"I entered it from the grounds, and I haven't passed out again into the grounds, therefore I'm still in it-and you're with me. I don't profess to understand, but it is so, and it can't be otherwise."

The mist sensibly thickened. Isbel could scarcely distinguished the trees on the opposite side of the valley. The sun disappeared, the sky was a whitish grey, while the air felt cold and damp.

"Henry, I'm going!" she said, quietly detaching herself from his embrace…"Everything's falling back…"

His face fell in alarm. "What's the matter? What's happening to you?…"

"We're returning t the old state. The sun's gone in, and it's growing misty and cold…Oh, can't you see it?"

"No, I can't. There's no difference at all-the day is as glorious as ever it was…Exert your will!…"

"My mind is getting all mixed up, too. I seem to be losing my grip of things…Do you know, I can hardly remember yesterday?"

"My poor, poor girl! Make an effort. Force yourself to see that it isn't so."

"Unfortunately, one cannot conquer facts. Oh, I'm going back right enough. It's been a short-lived dream this time-but it doesn't signify."

Judge bit his nails in agitation. "What's to be done? Something must be done. I must think of something…"

"I verily believe you are more concerned than I," she replied smiling. "You had better wake that man. Is he still lying there? I can no longer see."

"Wake him?"

"Is he too terrible to be waked?"

"His face is buried in his arm."

"Perhaps he will help us. He has done so before. But he quick! It will soon be too late."

"I'll go at once. May it turn out well! There's something very unusual in his appearance."

By the time both the crest of the hill and the valley beneath were blotted out. She was unable to see for more than a few feet around her, while the mist resembled a fine, driving rain, which did its work none the less effectually because it was impalpable.

She signed to Judge to stop, and, after staring at him for a few moments, with knitted brows, said:

"I'm afraid I've lost the thread of my ideas. Of whom are we speaking?"

"Of that man. The musician."

"What man? What musician?"

"Isbel!…"

"Mr. Judge," she said quietly, "my head is very confused, and I have to plead guilty to not remembering what or whom we were talking about; but one thing I do recollect. I requested you a short time ago to address me with the same courtesy which you would use towards any other lady of your acquaintance."

Judge turned pale, and bowed.

"You left me a few minutes ago," she went on, "and it seems you've come back. Is there any advantage to be gained by our pursuing this conversation?"

"I have no explanation to offer which you would at present be able to understand. I will absent myself once more. Please be good enough to wait here a few moments longer. I have complete confidence that everything will be made clear to you."

His features bore an expression of earnestness and humility which succeeded only in still further irritating her.

"No, I'm going home. Your conduct ever since yesterday, Mr. Judge, is entirely beyond my comprehension, but I will put the most charitable construction upon it that I can, and give you a word of advice. Continue your journey to London with as little delay as possible, and lose not time in seeking your medical adviser."

Judge bowed again.

"I think we shall not see one another again," proceeded Isbel. "I will take this opportunity of saying good-bye. It has been a very…broken friendship."

Without waiting for any further speech from him, she started slowly to mount the lawn, having no definite plans for getting back to Brighton, but feeling that she would gain her bearings better from the house in the first place. She did not rust herself to retrace the route by which she had come. The thick, white, rolling vapours shut her in, as in a prison…Judge, standing there in brilliant sunshine and an atmosphere which showed everything as clear-cut and painted, saw her one moment, and failed to see her the next. She had disappeared before his eyes. He made a gesture of dismay, and began in hot haste to scramble up the hillside obliquely, in the direction of the sleeping musician.

Isbel heard a long, low, scraping sound, like the slow drawing of a bow across the low string of a deep-toned viol. It was succeeded by silence.

She was by this time close up to the house, and she looked towards it, but was unable to understand where she had come to. It was a different building. As well as could be distinguished through the mist, it was constructed entirely of unpainted timber, from top to bottom; the roof was flat, without gables, and there appeared to be four storeys. Then the fog shut out the vision again.

A strange warmth was running through her body. All her other sensations seemed to be merged in the recollection that she was a woman…Fever was abroad in the air, and her blood grew hotter and hotter…

That musical noise returned, but now the note was low, fierce, passionate, exactly resembling a deep, forced human cry of love-pain…

Everything happened in a single second. Between twin periods of fog and gloom, came one flash of summer sunlight. It entered upon her with the abrupt unexpectedness of a stroke, and before she realised where she was, or what had happened to her, it had departed again leaving her stunned and terrified. Meanwhile, this is what she seemed to see. She was standing in sunshine again, on that bare hill, gazing at the distant forest, across the valley. The sky was cloudless. She was nearly at the top of the hill, and the house had vanished…She recollected everything, but could settle to nothing. Her mood was one of unutterable excitement and reckless audacity; she appeared to herself to be laughing and sobbing under her breath…

Henry and that other man were facing each other on the hillside, a little way below her. The man was tall and stout, and, in his bright-coloured, archaic garments, cut an extraordinary figure. He held his instrument against his chest, and was in the act of drawing his bow across it-the note she had heard had not yet come to an end. His back was turned towards her, so that she could not see his face, but Henry, who was standing erect and motionless beyond, was looking right into it, and, from his expression, it was as though he were beholding some appalling vision!…She screamed and ran towards him, calling him by name. Before she had taken three steps, however, the musician jerked his whole force savagely into his bow-arm, and she was brought up with a violent shock. Such sharp brutality of passion she had never heard expressed by any sound…The sunlight grew suddenly hotter and darker, the landscape appeared to close rapidly in upon her, some catastrophe was impending; her blood was boiling and freezing…