ultant laugh, and drew her more
swiftly on.

They left the other masqueraders behind; they left the shimmering
lake and its many lights; and at last in the starlight only they
slackened speed.

Anne came out of her trance of delight to find that they were between the
banks of the stream that fed the lake. The ground on each side of them
shone white and hard in the frost-bound silence. The full moon was just
rising over a long silver ridge of down. She stood with her face to its
cold splendour, her hands still locked in that vital grip.

Slowly at last, compelled she knew not how, she turned to the man beside
her. His eyes were blazing at her with a lurid fire, and suddenly that
sensation that had troubled her once before in his presence--a sensation
of sharp uneasiness--pricked through her confidence.

She stood quite still, conscious of a sudden quickening of her heart. But
she did not shrink from that burning gaze. She met it with level eyes.

For seconds they stood so, facing one another. He seemed to be trying in
some fashion to subjugate her, to beat her down; but she would not yield
an inch. And it was he who finally broke the spell.

"Am I forgiven?"

"For what?" she said.

"For pretending to disbelieve you this morning."

"Was it pretence?" she asked.

"No, it wasn't!" he told her fiercely. "It was deadly earnest. I would
have given all I had to be able to disbelieve you. Do you know that?"

"But why, Nap?"

"Why?" he said. "Because your goodness, your purity, are making a slave
of me. If I could catch you--if I could catch you only once--cheating, as
all other women cheat, I should be free. But you are irreproachable and
incorruptible. I believe you are above temptation."

"Oh, you don't know me," she interposed quietly. "But even if I were all
these things, why should it vex you?"

"Why?" he said. "Because you hold me back, you check me at every turn.
You harness me to your chariot wheels, and I have to run in the path of
virtue whether I will or not!"

He broke off with a laugh that had in it a note of savagery.

"Don't you even care to know what was in that letter that you never had?"
he asked abruptly.

"Tell me!" she said.

"I told you that I was mad to have missed you that day. I begged you to
let me have a line before you came again. I besought you to let me call
upon you and to fix a day. I signed myself your humble and devoted slave,
Napoleon Errol."

He ceased, still laughing