he feared no rival.

But he was near her now. Her heart leaped as she realised how very near
he might well be, then sank again to its calm beating. He had been near
her a score of times in the past years, and yet they had not met. But
she had not been free, then, as she was now. There was more hope than
before, but she could not delude herself with any belief in a certainty.

So thinking, and so saying to herself, she fell asleep, and slept
soundly without dreaming as most people do who are young and strong, and
who are clear-headed and active when they are awake.

It was late when she opened her eyes, and the broad cold light filled
the room. She lost no time in thinking over the events of the night, for
everything was fresh in her memory. Half dressed, she wrapped about her
a cloak that came down to her feet, and throwing a black veil over her
hair she went down to the portress's lodge. In five minutes she had
found Keyork's address and had despatched one of the convent gardeners
with the note. Then she leisurely returned to her room and set about
completing her toilet. She naturally supposed that an hour or two must
elapse before she received an answer, certainly before Keyork appeared
in person, a fact which showed that she had forgotten something of the
man's characteristics.

Twenty minutes had scarcely passed, and she had not finished dressing
when Sister Paul entered the room, evidently in a state of considerable
anxiety. As has been seen, it chanced to be her turn to superintend the
guest's quarters at that time, and the portress had of course informed
her immediately of Keyork's coming, in order that she might tell
Beatrice.

"He is there!" she said, as she came in.

Beatrice was standing before the little mirror that hung upon the wall,
trying, under no small difficulties, to arrange her hair. He turned her
head quickly.

"Who is there? Keyork Arabian?"

Sister Paul nodded, glad that she was not obliged to pronounce the name
that had for her such an unChristian sound.

"Where is he? I did not think he could come so soon. Oh, Sister Paul, do
help me with my hair! I cannot make it stay."

"He is in the parlour, down stairs," answered the nun, coming to her
assistance. "Indeed, child, I do not see how I can help you." She
touched the black coils ineffectually. "There! Is that better?" she
asked in a timid way. "I do not know how to do it--"

"No, no!" Beatrice exclaimed. "Hold that end--so--now turn