emed somewhat disappointed.

"I did not think you would refuse me," she said, "since what I am going
to ask of you is only for your own good. Mr. Forrester, you have seen
something on board the yacht of the risk you run while you are
associated with Pharos. You are now on land again and your own master.
If you desire to please me, you will take the opportunity and go away.
Every hour that you remain here only adds to your danger. The crisis
will soon come, and then you will find that you have neglected my
warning too long."

"Forgive me," I answered, this time as seriously as even she could
desire, "if I say that I have not neglected your warning. Since you have
so often pointed it out to me, and judging from what I have already seen
of the character of the old gentleman in question, I can quite believe
that he is capable of any villainy; but, if you will pardon my reminding
you of it, I think you have heard my decision before. I am willing, nay,
even eager to go away, provided you will do the same. If, however, you
decline, then I remain. More than that I will not, and less than that I
can not, promise."

"What you ask is impossible; it is out of the question," she continued.
"As I have told you so often before, Mr. Forrester, I am bound to him
forever and by chains that no human power can break. What is more, even
if I were to do as you wish, it would be useless. The instant he wanted
me, if he were thousands of miles away and only breathed my name, I
should forget your kindness, my freedom, his old cruelty--everything, in
fact--and go back to him. Have you not seen enough of us to know that
where he is concerned, I have no will of my own? Besides--but there, I
can not tell you any more! Let it suffice that I can not do as you ask."

Remembering the interview I had overheard that night on board the yacht,
I did not know what to say. That Pharos had her under his influence I
had, as she had said, seen enough to be convinced. And yet, regarded in
the light of our sober, every-day life, how impossible it all seemed! I
looked at the beautiful, fashionably-dressed woman seated by my side,
playing with the silver handle of her Parisian parasol, and wondered if
I could be dreaming, and whether I should presently waken to find myself
in bed in my comfortable rooms in London once more, and my servant
entering with my shaving-water.

"I think you are very cruel!" she said, when I returned no answer.
"Surely you must be awa