holiday excursion, then? The two friends
lit their cigars and went back to their arm-chairs. The tired and
haggard look on George Brand's face had for the moment been banished.

But by-and-by he said, rather absently,

"I suppose, hereafter, Natalie and you will have many a talk over what
has happened. And you will go there just as usual, and spend the
evening, and hear her read, or listen to her singing with the zither. It
seems strange. Perhaps she will be able to forget altogether--to cut
this unhappy episode out of her life, as it were." Then he added, as if
speaking to himself, "No, she is not likely to forget."

Lord Evelyn looked up.

"In the mean time, does she know about your going?"

"I presume not--not yet. But I must see her and tell her unless, indeed,
Lind should try to prevent that too. He might lay injunctions on her
that she was not to see me again."

"That is true," his friend said. "He might command. But the question is
whether she would obey. I have known Natalie Lind longer than you have.
She is capable of thinking and acting for herself."

Nothing further was said on this point; they proceeded to talk of other
matters. It was perhaps a quarter of an hour afterward--close on eleven
o'clock--that Waters knocked at the door and then came into the room.

"A letter for you, sir."

A quick glance at the envelope startled him.

"How did you get it?" he said instantly.

"A girl brought it, sir, in a cab. She is gone again. There was no
answer, she said."

Waters withdrew. Brand hastily opened the letter, and read the following
lines, written in pencil, apparently with a trembling hand:

"Dearest,--I spent this evening with Madame Potecki. My father came for
me, and on the way home has told me something of what has occurred. It
was for the purpose of telling me that you and I must not meet
again--never, never. My own, I cannot allow you to pass a single night,
or a single hour, thinking such a thing possible. Have I not promised to
you? When it is your wish to see me, come to me: I am yours. Good-night,
and Heaven guard you!

"NATALIE."

George Brand turned to his friend.

"This," said he; but his lip trembled, and he stopped for a second. Then
he continued: "This is a message from her, Evelyn. And I know what poor
old Calabressa would say of it, if he were here. He would say: 'This is
what might have been expected from the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi!'"

"She knows, then?"

"Yes,