On one of the worst and most dreadful of nights, Christian suddenly rose from her seat, crossed the hearth and threw herself upon her knees before her companion.
"I am going out," she said. "Don't—don't try to keep me."
"It is midnight," said Mrs. Murdoch, "and you don't know where to go."
"Yes," the girl returned, "I do. For God's sake, let me go! I cannot bear it."
The woman gave her a long look, and then said a strange and cruel thing.
"You had better stay where you are. It is not you he wants."
"No," she said bitterly, "it is not I he wants; but I can find him and make sure—that—he will come back. And then you will go to sleep." She left her in spite of her efforts to detain her. She was utterly fearless, and went into the night as if there was no such thing as peril on earth.
She did know where to go and went there. Murdoch was standing opposite the house in which Rachel Ffrench slept. She went to him and put her hand on his arm.
"What are you doing here?" she said, in a low voice. He turned and gave her a cold, vacant look. He did not seem at all surprised at finding her dark, beautiful young face at his very shoulder.
"I don't know. Can you tell me?"
"We have been waiting for you," she said. "We cannot rest when you are away."
"Do you want me to go home and go to bed decently and sleep?" he said. "Do you suppose I would not, if I could? I always start from here and come back here. I say to myself, 'It will take me an hour to reach
