on her, and spoke of things with a terrifying
frankness, sometimes in bad English, but oftener in her own tongue. She
rehearsed her sensations during sea-sickness, criticised Miss Morland,
and asked me about Barraclough, whom she had seen passing by her window
once or twice.

"Sir John," she said, speaking pretty broken English. "Then he is
noble. Oh, comme il est gentil, comme il est beau!" and as quickly fell
to cross-questioning me on my parentage and history.

It was in the thick of this that Miss Morland made her entrance. I do
not know if it be a confession of weak-mindedness, or even of
snobbishness (I hope not), but the fact was that since I had discovered
Miss Morland's identity I did not judge her coldness and aloofness so
hardly. I am disposed to think it was merely a reasonable attitude on
my part produced by the knowledge of her circumstances, and what I set
down as her trials. She bowed to me, and addressed some words to
mademoiselle which, sympathetic in their import, were yet somewhat
frigid in tone. Mademoiselle replied laughing:

"You are very good, my dear, but I am progressing. We are sailing into
the land of romance and will find what we shall find there."

I lingered beyond what was necessary, and thus it happened that Miss
Morland and I left the cabin together. Outside she spoke: "Is there any
likelihood of a recurrence of the attack?"

"I don't think so," I answered. "But Mlle. Trebizond is a nervous
subject."

It was the look in her eyes that made me suddenly realise my
indiscretion. A light flashed in them, almost as if she would have
struck me.

"Mlle. Chateray is almost well enough to dispense with a doctor's
services," she said with an accent on the name.

"You must allow me to be the judge of that," I replied flushing. She
was silent.

"Naturally," she said at last, and turned away.

The newspaper had stated that Princess Alix was sympathetic to her
brother's attachment, but was she altogether so? I could not but
attribute her coolness and her reticence to some scruple. She walked
daily with her brother, and it was evident that she was fond of him, or
why was she here? But how much of personal prejudice and of private
conviction had she sacrificed on that pious altar?

I was sure that if the news of our passengers were bruited about at all
I should hear of it from Lane, who was a gossip at heart; and as he
said nothing I knew that Holgate had been silent--why, I could not
co