hillock, and faced him eagerly. "Then do not
go to Cruta until to-morrow!" I begged. "It will make no difference to
you."

"And what difference will it make to you, he asked, perplexed.

"Never mind! promise!" He hesitated for a moment, with a frown on his
forehead, and his face turned seaward.

"Well! I will promise then!"

I caught hold of his hand, and held it tightly. "You are very good to
me!" I said. "_Allons!_ let us move onward!"

We had reached the Hermitage, and I had spoken scarcely a single word
of comfort. An icy coldness seemed to have stolen into my heart. I
had ceased to think of Paul, or of my love. There was something else;
another passion which made me blind. Yet I let him come in with me,
and yielded myself up for a while to the dream of loving and being
loved by him. While I lay in his arms, with my head upon his shoulder,
and every now and then felt his light, caressing touch upon my
face,--why then, the world for me was bounded by that little room, and
I had no thoughts which travelled outside it. But it lasted only while
he was with me. When he stood up, and said that he must go, I did not
seek to keep him.

"Shall I come again?" he asked, as we stood hand in hand before the
door.

I shook my head. "Not to-night love! I shall be better alone. I am
weary, and I have my things to collect."

I knew he would be surprised. He withdrew his hand, and manlike, was
almost angry. "I forgot. You will leave here, I suppose!"

I shrugged my shoulders. "What should keep me, Paul? I could not live
here alone. Every stone and tree would be full of barren memories. No!
to-morrow I go to London. I have sent all the servants away to-day,
except Gomez. You will be with me early!"

"I will be outside your window before you are up!" he promised with a
touch of gaiety in his tone. "See that Gomez has breakfast for two!"

He passed down the avenue, and out of sight. I closed the door with
a little shudder and turned round. Gomez was by my side. Through the
gloom I could see that his dark eyes were full of fire, and his olive
features were set and grim.

"What do you want Gomez?" I asked quickly.

He drew close to my side. "The priest," he muttered, "has he--has he
dared----"

His breath was coming quickly. He spoke English but slightly, and in
the excitement the words seemed to stick in his throat.

I interrupted him. "He has told Mr. de Vaux some strange, horrible
story. What do you know of it?"