s everything, even to the end and limit
ordained for mortality.

He made his way up towards the highest point, and before long saw the
house, surrounded by a high spiked railing, standing just beyond the
brow of the hill. His heart beat fast; he knew there could be no
mistake, as the road and the house answered exactly to the description
just given him by his driver. No, there he was, for good or evil. And,
before he had clearly realised what his actual feelings were, he caught
sight of her--Amanda--dressed in her light morning gown, with a smile
upon her lips, at something she had apparently heard or said, as she
stepped out on to the balcony. But almost immediately, she saw him,
and, giving one of her familiar little screams, ran inside the house
again.

Just as an exhausted sportsman, brought unexpectedly in view of his
long-hunted quarry, feels his lost buoyancy and energy return, so now
Mansana felt suddenly within him an uncontrollable strength, an
indomitable purpose, and, before he really knew what he was doing, he
had reached the iron gate within the railing and, without stopping to
ring and ask admission, had clambered over to the other side. His
pent-up feelings relieved by this exertion, all his old military
instincts revived, he looked round, saw the key attached to the inside
fastening, and promptly took it into his own possession. She was now a
prisoner in his hands. The door of the house was only half closed; he
opened it, and saw before him a large, bright, corridor, with inlaid
mosaic stone floor, stained-glass windows which reflected curious
lights and shadows on the statuettes, and on the vases, which were
filled with flowers, palms and a variety of waving plants. His eye
caught sight of a couple of quaint, old-fashioned settees, and on one
of these he noticed a straw hat with blue ribbons--did it belong to
her?--and on the other, he saw a parasol of a certain peculiar watered
silk, with carved, costly handle, set with a large blue stone. Where
had he seen this parasol before? A painful presentiment seized him,
and, without giving himself time to clear his recollection, he hastily
rang the bell. What he would do, he must do quickly. But no one came in
answer, and there he stood, waiting, trembling, unable to control
himself. He grew desperate, he felt inaction no longer endurable, he
must do something or give himself up for lost; he rang the bell again,
and even this slight effort seemed to put fre