She looked at her little clock. Still ten minutes before dinner. Tired of staying in her bedroom she thought she would go on to Mrs. Fisher's battlements, which would be empty at this hour, and watch the moon rise out of the sea.
She went into the deserted upper hall with this intention, but was attracted on her way along it by the firelight shining through the open door of the drawing-room.
How gay it looked. The fire transformed the room. A dark, ugly room in the daytime, it was transformed just as she had been transformed by the warmth of--no, she wouldn't be silly; she would think of the poor; the thought of them always brought her down to sobriety at once.
She peeped in. Firelight and flowers; and outside the deep slits of windows hung the blue curtain of the night. How pretty. What a sweet place San Salvatore was. And that gorgeous lilac on the table-- she must go and put her face in it . . .
But she never got to the lilac. She went one step towards it, and then stood still, for she had seen the figure looking out of the window in the farthest corner, and it was Frederick.
All the blood in Rose's body rushed to her heart and seemed to stop its beating.
She stood quite still. He had not heard her. He did not turn round. She stood looking at him. The miracle had happened, and he had come.
She stood holding her breath. So he needed her, for he had come instantly. So he too must have been thinking, longing . . .
Her heart, which had seemed to stop beating, was suffocating her now, the way it raced along. Frederick did love her then--he must love her, or why had he come? Something, perhaps her absence, had made him turn to her, want her . . . and now the understanding she had made up her mind to have with him would be quite--would be quite--easy-Her thoughts wouldn't go on. Her mind stammered. She couldn't think. She could only see and feel. She didn't know how it had happened. It was a miracle. God could do miracles. God had done this one. God could--God could--could-Her mind stammered again, and broke off.
"Frederick--" she tried to say; but no sound came, or if it did the crackling of the fire covered it up.
She must go nearer. She began to creep towards him--softly, softly.
He did not move. He had not heard.
She stole nearer and nearer, and the fire crackled and he heard nothing.
She stopped a moment, unable to breathe. She was afraid. Suppose he--suppose he--oh, but he had come, he had come.