A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. ” “And what are you doing here?” the lady asked. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford. Behind the poet came Sir James Thornhill. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself. Several of the assailants carried links, so that the room was a blaze of light.
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