ay that the intruder was not a
bad man, and that he had his uncle's health at heart.

She gave the signal to go, saying simply,

"We mustn't be late for dinner, father, must we?"

And she rose to go, held back by the hand, by Luke's fervent
insistence.

He could not accustom himself to part from her, as he often had to do.
It seemed absurd, but undeniable. He was supremely happy in her
company, and snatched as much of it as ever he could; but the wrench
was always awful and Louisa--subtly comprehensive--was conscious of
the terrible pain which she gave him at every parting. She felt the
repercussion of it in all her nerves, although her sound common-sense
condemned the sensation as unreal.

To-night the feeling was even stronger than it had ever been before.
At her first suggestion that it was time to go, an elusive current
passed from him to her. He had been holding her hand, and his had
been cool and only slightly on the quiver from time to time when her
own fingers pressed more markedly against his. But now, all at once it
seemed as if a sudden current of lava had penetrated his veins; his
hand almost scorched her own, and though visibly it did not move, yet
she felt the pulses throbbing and trembling beneath the flesh. The
look of misery in his face made her own heart ache though she tried to
smile with easy gaiety.

"To-morrow we go to the Temple Show together; don't forget, Luke."

Her words seemed to recall him from another world, and he quickly
enough pulled himself together and helped her on with her cloak.
Colonel Harris with the gentle tactfulness peculiar to kind hearts had
loudly announced that he would be waiting in the hall.

"Anything the matter, Luke?" she asked as soon as her father had gone
from the room.

He contrived to smile and to look unconcerned.

"Not particularly," he replied.

"You seem different to-night, somehow."

"How different?"

"I can't explain. But you are not yourself."

"Myself more than ever. My adoration for you is more
uncontrolled--that is all."

She wrapped herself up in her furs, for it was silence that gave the
best response. And then he said quite calmly:

"Will you go first. I'll switch off the light."

"Father will be waiting down stairs," she rejoined.

Then she went past him and out through the door, and he had to go back
to the mantel-piece where one of the electric light switches was. He
turned off the light; the room remained in darkness save w