she said quietly.
"And yet, Adrea, hear me! You are doing an evil thing! Was your
father's murder so light a thing to you that you can join hands with
his murderer's son? Remember that day! Think of your father lying
across that chamber floor, stricken dead in a single moment by Martin
de Vaux--by his father! It is not seemly that you two should stand
there, hand in hand! It is not seemly for you to be under the same
roof! It is horrible!"

There was a moment's silence. Then Adrea threw open the door, and
pointed to it.

"Go!" she ordered coldly. "You have had your say, and that is my
answer! You were my father's friend; I believe that he loved you! It
was for his sake that I offered you shelter! It was for his sake that
I brought you here! But, remember this: if you wish to stay with me,
let me never hear another word from you on this subject!"

She went out silently. Adrea closed the door, and turned round with
all the hardness fading swiftly out of her features. A moment before
there had been a look of the tigress in her eyes; and Paul, watching
her, had shuddered. It was gone now. She came close up to Paul, and
led him to a chair.

"Was I very undignified?" she said, laughing. "I am afraid I was. I
was very angry!"

He shook his head. "You were not undignified," he said, "but you were
very severe. I think that she will go away."

Adrea's face hardened again. "I do not care! I would hate the dearest
friend I had on earth who tried to come between us. Oh! Paul, Paul!
don't you feel as I do; as though the world were empty, and my mind
swept bare of memories,--as though there were no background to it all,
nothing save you and I, and our love?"

Paul drew her to him. For him, at that moment, there was no past nor
any future. The dreamy _abandon_ of her manner seemed to have raised
an echo within him.

"Listen! What is that?" Adrea exclaimed suddenly.

There was the ring of a horse's hoofs in the avenue, and immediately
afterwards a loud peal at the bell. Paul and Adrea looked at one
another breathlessly. Who could it be?

The outer door was opened and closed, and then quick steps passed
across the hall. The drawing-room door was thrown open, and Arthur
de Vaux, pale and splashed with mud from head to foot, stood upon the
threshold.

CHAPTER XX

"THE NEW, STRONG WINE OF LOVE"

The situation, although it was only a brief one, was for a moment
possessed of a singularly dramatic force. The groupin