suppressed, and again he tore off the velvet mask.

When the girl raised her calm eyes to his face, the ardent look in his
startled her, and she determined to at least listen to any explanation
he wished to give her. "Where have you been, Adrien?" she said gently.
"I thought you had forgotten me."

"No!" he answered sharply, "that would be impossible; but I was called
away. Do you care for this dance? Or, would you give me just a few
moments with you alone on the terrace?"

Her eyes softened.

"Yes, if you like, Adrien," she said gently. "I am really tired now, and
longing for the air."

"Come, then," he said; and catching up a silken wrap that lay on one of
the seats, he threw it tenderly over her.

Together they passed out on to the terrace, and seemed to have slipped
into another world, so great a contrast was the peaceful moonlit valley
beneath them to the brilliant, heated ball-room they had just left.

As the curtained door swung behind them, Jasper Vermont, alias
Mephistopheles--his scarlet costume now changed to ordinary evening
dress, and covered with a long black domino, similar to that which Ada
had donned--shot a sharp glance after them; then, with a sinister smile,
he left the room by another exit, and made his way into the grounds.
Keeping well within the shadow of the trees and shrubs, he crouched
down, directly under the terrace where Adrien had led Constance; here,
motionless and scarcely breathing, he listened with eager ears.

"It is hot," said Constance, removing her mask, and letting the wrap
fall back from her shoulders.

"All the more reason you should be careful," said Adrien, replacing it
gently.

She smiled, as she gazed up at him.

"You look very tired," she said softly. "This ball has been a strain on
you, has it not?"

"Not more than usual," he returned. "At any rate, it will be my last for
some time to come."

"Your last!" she echoed, looking up at him with wide, startled eyes.
"What do you mean, Adrien?"

"I am going away after to-night," he said hoarsely; for the sight of her
beauty was goading him almost to despair.

"Going away!" she hardly breathed the words; her face had paled in the
moonlight, till it looked almost unearthly. "Why?"

"You ask me why?" he murmured, his forehead damp with the force of his
emotion. "You, who know how I love you--worship your very shadow!"

She trembled under the passion of his gaze.

"Adrien!" she exclaimed, in low, reproachful