n all on one side."

Left alone, he returned to his solitary musings--tried to, rather, for
there was no "return" about the matter, because now they took an
entirely new line. His late companion would intrude upon them--nay,
monopolized them. She had appealed powerfully to his senses, to his
mind, how long would it be before she did so to his heart? He had
avoided her--he alone--up till then, and yet now, after this first
conversation, he was convinced that of all gathered there he alone knew
the real Lilith Ormskirk as distinct from the superficial one known to
the residue. And to his mind recurred her former warning, laughingly
uttered: "Beware such unholy spells!" With a strange intoxicating
recollection did that warning recur, together with the consciousness
that more than ever was it needed now. But as against this was the
protecting strength of a triple chain armour. Life was only rendered
interesting by such interesting character studies as this. Oh, yes; that
was the solution--that, and nothing more.

This was by no means the last talk they had--they two alone together.
But it seemed to Laurence Stanninghame that a warning note had been
sounded, and one of no uncertain nature. His tone became more acrid, his
sarcasm more biting, more envenomed. One day Lilith said:

"Why do you dislike me so?"

He started at the question, thrown momentarily off his guard.

"I don't dislike you," he answered shortly.

"Then why have you such a very poor opinion of me? You never lose an
opportunity of letting me see that you have. What have I done? What have
I said that you should think so poorly of me?"

There was no spice of temper, of resentment, in the tone. It was soft,
and rather pleading. The serious eyes were sweet and wistful. As his own
met their steady gaze, it seemed that a current of magnetic thought
flashed from mind to mind.

"I hold no such opinion," he said, after a few moments of silence.
"Perhaps I dread those 'unholy spells,' thou sorceress. Ah! there goes
the second dinner-bell. Run away now, and make yourself more beautiful
than ever--if possible."

A bright laugh flashed in the hazel eyes, and the white teeth showed in
a smile.

"I'll try--since _you_ wish it," she said over her shoulder, as she
turned away.

CHAPTER IV.

THE LAND OF PROMISE.

The throb of the propeller has almost ceased; faint, too, is the
vibration of the slowed-down engines. The _Persian_ is gliding with
well-nig