ater.
So-long!"

The dark, impassive face of the up-country man underwent no change. He
had understood the whole change of plan, but it was no concern of his.
So he merely said "_Ja_, so-long," and continued his way.

Laurence did not go back to the hotel. The last thing he desired was
that his return should be noticed and commented upon. He sought out
Rainsford, who, having stable-room, willingly consented to put up his
steed, and, being a discreet fellow, was not likely to indulge in undue
tongue-wagging. Then he took his way down to Booyseus.

As he stepped forth through the gloom--for by this time it was quite
dark--the words of that missive seemed burned into his brain in
characters of fire and of gold. What words they were, too! He had read
her glance aright, then? It was only that intrepidity of self-command
which he had failed to allow for. And he? Why had he been so strong that
morning? Seldom indeed did a second opportunity occur. But now? When he
should return up the hill he was now descending, such a memory would be
his to carry forth with him into the solitude and peril and privation of
his enterprise! Yet to what end? Even if he were successful in amassing
wealth untold, yet they two must be as far apart as ever. Well, that
need not follow, he told himself. With wealth one can do
anything--anything; without it nothing, was at this time the primary
article of Laurence Stanninghame's creed; and at the thought his step
grew more elastic, and all unconsciously his head threw itself back in a
gesture of anticipatory triumph.

The house was quiet as he approached. At the sound of his step on the
_stoep_--almost before he had time to knock--the door was opened--was
opened by Lilith herself--then closed behind him.

She said no word; she only looked up at him. The subdued light of the
half-darkened hall softened as with an almost unearthly beauty the
upturned face, and forth from it her eyes shone, glowed with the lustre
of a radiant tenderness, too vast, too overwhelming for her lips to
utter.

And he? He, too, said no word. Those lips of hers, sweet, inviting, were
pressed to his; that peerless form was wrapped in his embrace, sinking
therein with a soft sigh of contentment. What room was there for mere
words? as again and again he kissed the lips--eyes--hair--then the lips
again. This was only the beginning of a farewell visit,--a sad,
whirling, heart-break of farewell,--yet as the blood surged boiling