r sadly, as he took out the remaining paper
without looking at it, and threw aside the box, "I almost regret it, as
between you and me. I have less of life to look forward to."

"I would like to ask one question," said Brand, rising: he was perfectly
firm.

"Yes?"

"The orders of the Council must be obeyed. I only wish to know
whether--when--when this thing comes to be done--I must declare my own
name?"

"Not at all--not at all!" Lind said, quickly. "You may use any name you
like."

"I am glad of that," he said. Then, with the same proud, impassive
firmness, he made an appointment for the next day, got his hat and coat,
bade his companions good-night, and went down-stairs into the cold night
air. He could not realize as yet all that had happened, but his first
quick, instinctive thought had been,

"Ah, not that--not the name that my mother bore!"

CHAPTER XLI.

IN THE DEEPS.

The sudden shock of the cold night air was a relief to his burning
brain; and so also as he passed into the crowded streets, was the low
continuous thunder all around him. The theatres were coming out; cabs,
omnibuses, carriages added to the muffled roar; the pavements were
thronged with people talking, laughing, jostling, calling out one to the
other. He was glad to lose himself in this seething multitude; he was
glad to be hidden by the darkness; he would try to think.

But his thoughts were too rapid and terrible to be very clear. He only
vaguely knew--it was a consciousness that seemed to possess both heart
and brain like a consuming fire--that the beautiful dreams he had been
dreaming of a future beyond the wide Atlantic, with Natalie living and
working by his side, her proud spirit cheering him on, and refusing to
be daunted--these dreams had been suddenly snatched away from him; and
in their stead, right before him, stood this pitiless, inexorable fate.
He could not quite tell how it had all occurred, but there at least was
the horrible certainty, staring him right in the face. He could not
avoid it; he could not shut his eyes to it, or draw back from it; there
was no escape. Then some wild desire to have the thing done at once
possessed him. At once--at once--and then the grave would cover over his
remorse and despair. Natalie would forget; she had her mother now to
console her. Evelyn would say, "Poor devil, he was not the first who got
into mischief by meddling in schemes without knowing how far he might
have to go."