ways pursuing it, we think we've
found it, only to find it empty and unreal, after all."

"You're happy, aren't you?" he persisted.

For a moment she made no answer. Then she said:

"Yes--I suppose I am."

"When do you expect to get married?" he asked.

"I don't know--nothing is settled--perhaps never----"

She laughed nervously. There was something in the tone of her voice that
sounded like a stifled sob.

Armitage watched her closely. This was not the way a happy woman acts or
talks. Could it be that she did not care for the Prince, that she was
forcing herself in this ambitious marriage in spite of her own better,
truer self? Certainly the man was unworthy of her. The escapades and
scandals in which he had been mixed up were the talk of Europe. She must
be aware of his real character, or was she completely blinded by the
brilliancy of his position? His heart throbbed furiously as he thought
that he had perhaps guessed the truth.

He wondered if it would make any difference if he told her everything,
of the miraculous change in his fortune, that he was no longer a
penniless outcast of society, but the bearer of one of the proudest
titles in England. That's why he hesitated. It might make a difference,
and that he didn't want. If after being told of the change in his
position she consented to marry him, he would always suspect that it was
for his title. No, if he was to win her he was determined that she
should love him for himself. The thought that there was still a
possibility of making her his wife had never presented itself until now.
On the desert island, remote from the conventions of civilized life,
bound only by nature's laws, he had claimed her as his chattel, his
primordial right. He was the lord and master whose will she must obey
without question. But now, restored to the protection of civilization,
she was free to exercise her own will, and it had never occurred to him
that, of all the men who had courted her, she might have chosen him from
preference. Such a possibility was beyond his most fantastic dreams.
Yet, after all, why not?

Breaking the long and awkward silence, he said:

"Have you quite recovered from your experience on Hope Island?"

"Yes--I'm all right now," she replied quickly.

"You're more comfortable, at any rate," he smiled, glancing around at
the oriental rugs, books and costly _objets d'art_ with which the
luxuriously furnished room was littered. "I suppose you're glad to