and
myself. How you stare--oh you remember now do you? Who told you I
wonder?--of course, such a couple as we are, Adrian and I, could not
be divided from each other for over half a day, could we? By the way,
I was to convey a gracious invitation to you too. Will you come with
me?--No?--strange girl. So even give me the letter, I will take it
to--no, not to Rene, 'tis addressed to Captain Smith, I see. Dear
me--you don't mean to say, Madeleine, that you are corresponding with
that person; that he is near us? What would Tanty say?"

"Oh, Molly, cease your scoffs," implored poor Madeleine, wearily. "You
are angry with me, well, now rejoice, for I am punished--well
punished. Oh, I would tell you all but I cannot! my heart is too sick.
See, you may read the letter, and then you will understand--but for
pity's sake go--Do not fail to go; he will be there on the island at
dark--he expects _me_--Oh, Molly! I cannot explain--indeed I cannot,
and there is no time, it will soon be dusk; but there is terrible
danger in his being there at all."

Molly took the letter, turned it over with scornful fingers and then
popped it in her pocket. "If he expects you," she asked, fixing cold,
curious eyes on her sister's distress, "and he is in danger, why
_don't_ you go?"

A flush rose painfully to Madeleine's face, a sob to her throat.
"Don't ask me," she murmured, turning away to hide her humiliation. "I
have been deceived, he is not what I thought."

Lady Landale gazed at the shrinking figure for a little while in
silence. Then remarking contemptuously: "Well you are a poor
creature," turned upon her heel to leave her. As she passed the little
altar, she paused to whisk a bunch of violets out of a vase and dry
the stems upon her sister's quilt.

"Molly," cried Madeleine, in a frenzy, "give me back my letter, or
go."

"I go, I go," said Lady Landale with a mocking laugh. "How sweet your
violets smell!--There, do not agitate yourself: I'm going to meet your
lover, my dear. I vow I am curious to see the famous man, at last."

CHAPTER XXIV

THE NIGHT

So the blood burned within her,
And thus it cried to her:
And there, beside the maize field
The other one was waiting--
He, the mysterious one.

_Luteplayer's Song._

The mantle of night had already fallen upon the land when Lady
Landale, closely wrapped in her warmest furs, with face well ensconced
under her close bonnet, and arms buried to th