eet, and then, leaning against the mantel-board,
buried his face in his hands. "I can't leave London, Paul!--or, if
I did, it could only be for a day," he said in a low tone. "I wish I
could tell you why, but I can't; you wouldn't understand!"

"I think I know," Paul said quietly. "There is some one whom you do
not care to leave! Is that not it?"

Arthur looked up quickly. His face was very white, and his lip was
quivering.

"Who told you that? What do you know?"

"I know nothing! I want you to tell me. Perhaps I could help you.
There is a--lady in the case, isn't there?"

Arthur stood up on the hearthrug, and spoke, with a subdued passion
trembling in his tone.

"Yes! it's Adrea Kiros, the dancer! I daresay you've heard all about
it! I don't see why you shouldn't! I can't leave her! I know all that
you would say! It doesn't make any difference. She isn't good! Well!
I know it! She doesn't care for me! I don't believe she does. She's
as cruel as a woman can be. Sometimes, when I am away from her, the
thought of going back makes me shudder; and yet, I could no more keep
away than lift the roof from this house. Of course, this sounds like
rigmarole to you. You think I'm raving! I don't blame you. Only it is
so, and I can't help it! I am as much a prisoner as any poor devil in
Newgate."

Paul laid his hand upon his brother's shoulder, and looked kindly into
his face. "Arthur, I'm very sorry! And don't think I don't understand!
I do! I do not know much of A--of Adrea Kiros, but I know enough
to tell me that she is a very dangerous woman. Can't I help you,
somehow?"

"I--I don't think you can! I don't think any one can," Arthur
exclaimed unsteadily. He had been prepared for a lecture, for good
advice, for a little contempt even; but his brother's attitude was
unexpected, and it almost unnerved him. "It is the uncertainty of it
all that is so tormenting," he went on. "Sometimes she is so kind,
and sweet, and thoughtful, that I could almost worship her. And then,
without any cause, she will suddenly become cold, and hard, and cruel,
till I hate myself for bearing quietly all that she says. But I do! I
can't help it! I am never quite happy even when she is in one of her
sweetest moods, for I never know how long it will last. The moment I
leave her I begin to get anxious, and wonder how she will be the next
day."

"Try what a change will do, Arthur!" his brother begged.

Arthur shook his head. "It's no use; I've tr