he firm."

"And--what would you do? Go abroad, I suppose?"

"For a time, at all events. Possibly to Russia--I have a purpose--too
vague to speak of yet--I should frighten myself if I spoke of it. But
it all depends upon----" He broke off, unable to command his voice. A
moment's silence, during which he stared at the woman on the wall, and
he could speak again. "I can't go alone. I can't do--can't think
of--anything seriously, whilst I am maddened by solitude!"

Olga sat with her head bent. He drew nearer to her.

"It depends upon you. I want you for my companion--for my wife----"

She looked him in the face--a strange, agitated, half-defiant look.

"I don't think that is true! You don't want _me_----"

"You! Yes, you, Olga! And only you!"

"I don't believe it. You mean--any woman." Her voice all but choked.
"If that one"--she pointed to the wall--"could step towards you, you
would as soon have her. You would _rather_, because she is more
beautiful."

"Not in my eyes!" He seized her hand, and said, half laughing, shaken
with the moment's fever, "Come and stand beside her, and let me see how
the real living woman makes pale the ideal!"

Flushing, trembling at his touch, she rose. Her lips parted; she had
all but spoken; when there came a loud knock at the door of the room.
Their hands fell, and they gazed at each other in perturbation.

"Silence!" whispered Otway. "No reply!"

He stepped softly to the door; silently he turned the key in the lock.
No sooner had he done so, than someone without tried the handle; the
door was shaken a little, and there sounded another knock, loud,
peremptory. Piers moved to Olga's side, smiled at her reassuringly,
tried to take her hand; but, with a frightened glance towards the door,
she shrank away.

Two minutes of dead silence; then Otway spoke just above his breath.

"Gone! Didn't you hear the footstep on the stairs?"

Had she just escaped some serious peril, Olga could not have worn a
more agitated look. Her hand resisted Otway's approach; she would not
seat herself, but moved nervously hither and thither, her eyes
constantly turning to the door. It was in vain that Piers laughed at
the incident, asking what it could possibly matter to them that some
person had wished to see Miss Bonnicastle, and had gone away thinking
no one was within; Olga made a show of assenting, she smiled and
pretended to recover herself, but was still tremulous and unable to
converse.

He too