she said; "then if that is the case, you should listen to my
advice. Have nothing to do with him."

"But I must have something to do with him, and with his friend the
Egyptian as well."

"Don't," she said anxiously; "the two work together, and both are
cunning as serpents. I believe," she continued, after a pause, "that the
thought-reading and mesmerism were somehow designed to injure you. I
think somehow they are acquainted with forces unknown to us, and will
use them for evil."

"Yes, I believe all that," I said.

"Then why must you have any dealings with them?"

"Because they will have dealings with me; because they are plotting
against me; because there are forces, over which I have no control,
drawing me on."

"But why will they have dealings with you? Why are they plotting against
you?"

"Because Voltaire knows that I love, with all my soul, the woman he
wants to win for his wife."

A curious look shot across her face. What was it? Love, astonishment,
pain, vexation, or joy? I could not tell; but my tongue was unloosed.

"Do I annoy you, astonish you, Miss Forrest?" I said. "Forgive me if I
do. I have been regarded as a woman-hater, a society-avoider. That is
because I never saw a woman in whom I was sufficiently interested to
court her society. I have heard it said that such characters fall in
love quickly, or not at all. The first day I saw you I fell in love with
you; I love you now with all my soul."

She looked at my face steadily, but did not speak a word.

"Voltaire has found out this, and he too wants you for his wife; so he
has been trying--is trying--to drive me away from here. How I cannot
tell you; but what I have said is true!" I spoke rapidly, passionately,
and I saw that her face became alternately pale and red, but she did not
reply.

"Am I bold to speak thus?" I asked. "I think I must be, for I have
scarcely known you a week. But I cannot help it. My life is given up to
you. If I could but know that my love were not in vain! If you could
give me some word of hope!"

A beautiful look lit up her eyes; she opened her mouth to speak, when a
voice shouted--

"Come, Justin; don't loiter so. We shall not get back in time for
dinner, if you do."

It was Tom Temple who spoke, and a turn in the lane revealed him. To say
I was sorry would be but to hint at my feelings. But I could not hinder
the turn things had taken, so we started our horses into a gallop, I
hoping that soon another op