CHAPTER XV.
My love is like the sky, As distant and as high; Perchance she's fair and kind and bright, Perchance she's stormy--tearful quite-- Alas! I scarce know why." It is late in the day when the professor enters Lady Baring's house.

He had determined not to wait till the morrow to see Perpetua.

It seemed to him that it would be impossible to go through another sleepless night, with this raging doubt, this cruel uncertainty in his heart.
He finds her in the library, the soft light of the dying evening falling on her little slender figure.

She is sitting in a big armchair, all in black--as he best knows her--with a book upon her knee.

She looks charming, and fresh as a new-born flower.