Instead, she spoke almost as to a stranger.

"I had an appointment for this afternoon," I reminded her, striving
to keep my vexation from my voice.

"Oh, yes," and she came a few steps into the room, but her face lost
none of its coldness. "I had forgotten. It is not to speak of
business?"

"No," I said; "it is to speak of your going to friends of Mr. Swain
and me--for a time, at least."

"You will thank your friends for me," she answered, calmly; "but I
have decided to remain here."

"But--but," I stammered, taken aback at the finality of her tone, "do
you think it wise?"

"Yes--far wiser than going to people I do not know and who do not
know me."

"And safe," I persisted; "do you think it safe?"

"Safe?" she echoed, looking at me in astonishment. "Certainly. What
have I to fear?"

I had to confess that I myself did not know very clearly what she had
to fear, so I temporised.

"Are you keeping the nurses?"

"No; I do not need them. They left an hour ago."

"But the servants," I said, in a panic, "they are here? They are going
to stay?"

Again she looked at me.

"Your questions seem most extraordinary to me, Mr. Lester. Of course
the servants will stay."

"And--and the Hindus?" I blurted out.

"Yes, and the Hindus, as you call them. This is their home. It was my
father's wish."

I gave it up; her manner indicated that all this was no concern of
mine, and that my interference was a mere impertinence. But I tried
one parting shot.

"Mr. Swain is very anxious you should not stay here," I said. "He will
be deeply grieved when he learns your decision."

To this she made no answer, and, finding nothing more to say, sore at
heart, and not a little angry and resentful, I started to leave the
room.

"There is one thing more," I said, turning back at the threshold. "I
shall have to go in to the city to-morrow, but I shall come out again
in the evening. Would it be convenient to have our business conference
after dinner?"

"Yes," she agreed; "that will do very well."

"At eight o'clock, then?"

"I shall expect you at that time," she assented; and with that I took
my leave.

It was in a most depressed state of mind that I made my way back to
Godfrey's; and I sat down on the porch and smoked a pipe of bitter
meditation. For I felt that, somehow, Miss Vaughan was slipping away
from me. There had been a barrier between us to-day which had not been
there before, a barrier of coldness and reserve whi