too,
breathless but unhurt, had struggled to his feet.

"Take her into the house," I said quickly. But her grasp only tightened
upon my arm.

"I will not leave you, Arnold," she said. "I shall stay here. They will
not dare to touch me."

I tried to disengage her arm, but she was persistent. She took no notice
of Allan, who tried to lead her away. I stole a glance at her through
the darkness. Her face was white, but there were no signs of fear there,
nor were there any signs of childishness in her manner or bearing. She
carried herself like an angry young princess, and her eyes seemed lit
with smouldering fire, as clinging to my arm she leaned a little
forwards toward the Baron.

"Why am I spoken of," she cried passionately, "as though I were a baby,
a thing of no account, to be carried away to your mistress or disposed
of according to your liking? Do you think that I would come, Baron von
Leibingen----"

She broke off suddenly. She leaned a little further forward. Her lips
were parted. The fire in her eyes had given way to a great wonder, and
the breathlessness of her silence was like a thing to be felt. It held
us all dumb. We waited--we scarcely knew for what. Only we knew that she
had something more to say, and we were impelled to wait for her words.

"I have seen you before," she cried, with a strange note of wonder in
her tone. "Your face comes back to me--only it was a long time ago--a
long, long time! Where was it, Baron von Leibingen?"

I heard his smothered exclamation. He drew quickly a step backwards as
though he sought to evade her searching gaze.

"You are mistaken, young lady," he said. "I know nothing of you beyond
the fact that the lady whom I have the honour to serve desires to be
your friend."

"It is not true," she answered. "I remember you--a long way back--and
the memory comes to me like an evil thought. I will not come to you. You
may kill me, but I will not come alive."

"Indeed you are mistaken," he persisted, though he sought still the
shadow of a rhododendron bush, and his voice quivered with nervous
anxiety. "You have never seen me before. Surely the Archduchess, the
daughter of a King, is not one whose proffered kindness it is well to
slight? Think again, young lady. Her Highness will make your future her
special charge!"

"If your visit to-night, sir," she answered, "is a mark of the
Archduchess's good-will to me, I can well dispense with it. I have given
you my answer."

"Y