hadows, while from the darkness
behind merciless hands seemed to be stretching forth to clutch him. One
simple, loyal love stood alone antagonistic to the universal desire to
crush and kill. A fragile woman was shielding him sturdily, unwaveringly
against all these mighty forces. His heart thrilled with devotion; his
arm tingled with the joy of clasping her once more to his breast; his
wistful eyes hung upon the flickering light far off in the west. Quinnox
had pointed it out to him, saying that it burned in the bedchamber of
the Princes Yetive. Since the memorable night that took him to the
cell in St. Valentine's, this light had burned from dusk to daylight.
Lovingly, faithfully it had shone for him through all those dreary
nights, a lonely signal from one heart to another.

At last, stiff and sore, they stole into the narrow streets of
Edelweiss. Lorry glanced back and shivered, although the air was warm
and balmy. He had truly been out of the world. Not until this instant
did he fully appreciate the dread that possesses a man who is being
hunted down by tireless foes; never did man's heart go out in gratitude
and trustfulness as did his toward the strong defender whose sinewy arm
he clasped as if in terror.

"You understand what this means to me," said Quinnox gravely, as they
paused to rest. "She will call me your murderer and curse me for my
miserable treason. I am the first to dishonor the name of Quirinox."

XXII. GRENFALL LORRY'S FOE

The Princess Yetive had not flinched a hair's breadth from the
resolution formed on that stormy night when she sacrificed pride and
duty on the altar of love and justice. Prince Bolaroz's ultimatum
overwhelmed her, but she arose from the wreckage that was strewn about
her conscience and remained loyal, steadfast and true to the man in the
monastery. To save his life was all she could hope to accomplish, and
that she was bound to do at any cost. She could be nothing to him--not
even friend. So long as he lived he would be considered the murderer
of Lorenz, and until the end a price would hang over his head. She,
Princess of Graustark, had offered a reward for him. For that reason he
was always to be a fugitive, and she least of all could hope to see
him. There had been a brief, happy dream, but it was swept away by the
unrelenting rush of reality. The mere fact that she, and she alone,
was responsible for his flight placed between them an unsurmountable
barrier.

Clin