Accordingly, he rang for William--who came, all staring and dishevelled, fresh from the agitation of the servants' hall--gave orders for his luggage to be sent after him, got as much fresh information as he could from the excited lad, plunged into his bath, and finally emerged, fresh and vigorous in every nerve, showing no trace whatever of the fact that two hours of broken sleep had been his sole portion for a night, in which he had gone through emotions and sustained a travail of brain either of which would have left their mark on most men.
* * * * * Then the meeting in the drive! How plainly he saw them both--Raeburn grave and pale, Marcella in her dark serge skirt and cap, with an eye all passion and a cheek white as her hand.
"A tragic splendour enwrapped her!--a fierce heroic air.

She was the embodiment of the moment--of the melancholy morning with its rain and leafless woods--of the human anguish throbbing in the little village.
And I, who had seen her last in her festal dress, who had held her warm perfumed youth in my arms, who had watched in her white breast the heaving of the heart that I--_I_ had troubled!--how did I find it possible to stand and face her?
But I did.

It rushed through me at once _how_ I would make her forgive me--how I would regain possession of her.
I had thought the play was closed: it was suddenly plain to me that the second act was but just beginning.

She and Raeburn had already come to words--I knew it directly I saw them.

This business will divide them more and more.