, it is said, have entered that evil house never to
be seen more by mortal eyes."

Paul tried to quiet her fears. But, though she soon grew calmer, he
saw that a great dread still lay upon her. And even when they
returned to the house, she started apprehensively at every sudden
sound.

Paul found brother Peter to be indeed a most gracious host. He had
been educated in England, it appeared, and like Paul was an Oxford
man. Indeed, the two found many things to talk about, for Peter well
remembered the stories he had heard of Paul's record as an oarsman on
the 'Varsity eight--traditions of the sort that are handed down from
year to year unto succeeding classes.

But as they talked, Paul noticed that Peter's eyes often rested with a
troubled look upon his sister. In fact, it seemed to Paul that a black
shadow of direful portent hung over them throughout the meal.

CHAPTER XXII

That afternoon Paul and his love--for a day, as she had told
him--walked down the long avenue of pine-trees. And pacing back and
forth beneath the shade he told her many things, some of which she
knew already.

She could not repress a smile as he recounted to her the manner in
which he had walked up and down the terrace at Lucerne, while--though
he knew it not--she saw him from her window.

"And now," he said at last, pausing to look down into her dear face,
"forsake, I beg of you, this scene of trouble. Leave this strange
land, half West, half East, and come away with me to England. There I
will try to make you happy, and the day will come, I hope, when you
will forget that this threatening evil ever came into your life. I do
not know even yet the reasons that seem to demand this marriage with
your cousin. Come! it shall not be, even though the Tsar demands it.
By marrying me, you will become a British subject, and we then can
laugh at any human will that would take you from me."

And then he saw a tear upon her lovely cheek. Like a pearl upon the
snow it was. Paul took her in his arms, and her beautiful weary head
sank upon his shoulder.

"You weep, dear heart!" he said to her, for she was sobbing softly.
"Surely this dreadful union must not be. Come--early to-morrow we will
start for Kieff, and then--in a few days more--England and freedom!"

She recovered quickly and shook her head.

"No!" she told him. "That can not be. To-morrow morning you must leave
this unhappy place. To stay here would be of no avail. It would only
ma