our. At the end of that
time Tremayne left the Master's house and went to look for Arnold. He
found him just helping Natasha out of a skiff at a little
landing-stage that had been built out into the lake for boating
purposes. As soon as greetings had been exchanged, he said--

"Natasha, I have just left your father. He asked me, if I saw you, to
tell you that he wishes to speak to you at once."

"Certainly," said Natasha. "I hope you have not brought bad news home
from your travels. You are looking very serious about something," and
without waiting for an answer, she was gone to obey her father's
summons. As soon as she was out of earshot Tremayne put his arm
through Arnold's, and, drawing him away towards a secluded portion of
the shore of the lake, said--

"Arnold, old man, I have some very serious news for you. You must
prepare yourself for the severest strain that, I believe, could be
put on your loyalty and your honour."

"What is it? For Heaven's sake don't tell me that it has to do with
Natasha!" exclaimed Arnold, stopping short and facing round, white to
the lips with the sudden fear that possessed him. "You know"--

"Yes, I know everything," replied Tremayne, speaking almost as gently
as a woman would have done, "and I am sorry to say that it has to do
with her. I know what your hopes have been with regard to her, and no
man on earth could have wished to see those hopes fulfilled more
earnestly than I have done, but"--

"What do you mean, Tremayne? Speak out, and let me know the worst. If
you tell me that I am to give her up, I tell you that I am"--

"'That I am an English gentleman, and that I will break my heart
rather than my oath'--that is what you will tell me when I tell you
that you must not only give up your hopes of winning Natasha, but
that it is the Master's orders that you shall have the _Ithuriel_
ready to sail at midnight to take her to America to Michael Roburoff,
who has written to Natas to ask her for his wife."

Arnold heard him out in dazed, stupefied silence. It seemed too
monstrous, too horrible, to be true. The sudden blow had stunned him.
He tried to speak, but the words would not come. Tremayne, still
standing with his arm through his, felt his whole body trembling, as
though stricken with some sudden palsy. He led him on again, saying
in a sterner tone than before--

"Come, come! Play the man, and remember that the work nearest to your
hand is war, and not love. Remember the