ce that had in its _timbre_ the same quality the lilies
had in their fragrance. For some reason that I didn't understand, my
whole spirit was in a turmoil, yet nothing had happened. What was the
matter? What did it mean? I couldn't tell. But I wanted to be happy. I
wanted something from life that it had never given, never would give,
perhaps. There was a voice down below in the garden--Mr. Barrymore
talking to Sir Ralph. I listened for an instant, every nerve tingling as
if it were a telegraph wire over which a question had been sent, and an
answer was coming. The voice died away. Suddenly my eyes were full of
tears; and surprised and frightened, I turned quickly to go in through
my open window, but something caught my dress and drew me back.

"Maida!" said another voice, which I knew almost as well as that other I
had heard--and lost.

Prince Dalmar-Kalm had come out of a window onto a balcony next mine,
and leaning over the railing had snatched at a fold of my gown.

"Let me go, please," I said. "And that name is not for you."

"Don't say that," he whispered, holding me fast, so that I could not
move. "It must be for me. _You_ must be for me. You shall. I can't live
without you."

His words jarred so upon my mood that I could have struck him.

"If you don't let me go, I'll cry out," I said, in a tone as low as his,
but quivering with anger. "I would be nothing to you if you were the
last man in the world."

"Very well. I _will_ be the last man in your world. Then--we shall see,"
he answered; and dropped my dress.

In another instant, I was in my room and had fastened the shutters. But
the words rang in my ears, like a bell that has tolled too loud.

XXIII

A CHAPTER OF KIDNAPPING

Beechy was ill next morning; nothing serious; but the Prince, it seemed,
had brought her in the evening a box of some rich Turkish confection;
and though she doesn't care for the man, she couldn't resist the sweet
stuff. So she had eaten, only a little, she said; but the box
contradicted her, and the poor child kept her bed.

Aunt Kathryn and I were with her until eleven o'clock. Then she was
sleepy, and told us to go away. So we went, and took a drive to the
pretty harbour of Gravosa, with Mr. Barrymore and Sir Ralph in the
motor, unaccompanied by the Prince, whose car was said to be somehow
disabled.

We expected, if Beechy were well, to get on next day; but the
Chauffeulier was troubled about the road between Ragus