. It's no use to try to love. You know that. We must just
let ourselves alone. Love comes, or hate, just as God wills it. We can
only accept our fate."

"As God wills," Bellairs said passionately; "why do you say that, when
you know it is not true?"

"Not true--Mr Bellairs!"

"Yes. If you echoed the will of God how could I blame you? We must all
do that--at least, when we are good. And those of us who are wicked I
suppose echo the Devil. But you--what do you echo?"

"I--I echo no one. I don't understand you."

"But you shall, before it is too late. Betty, be yourself. Emancipate
your soul. You are the echo of that woman, of Clarice. Don't you see it?
Don't you know it? You are her echo--and she hates me!"

Betty drew back from him--she was evidently alarmed.

"Are you mad?" she said. "Why do you say such things to me? Clarice and
I love each other, it is true, but our real natures are totally
different. She does not hate you, nor do I. She has never said one word
against you to me. She has always told me how much she liked you. What
are you saying?"

"The truth!"

"I--her echo! Why, then--then if that were the case she must have loved
you, or thought she loved you. Do you dare to tell me that?"

"I do not say that," Bellairs answered hopelessly.

"Of course not. The idea is so absurd. Clarice--oh! how can you talk
like this? And if I am only an echo, as you call it, how can you say you
care for me, care for another woman's shadow? You do not love me."

"I do--with all my heart."

"And yet you say I am nothing, that I have not even a heart of my own,
that I love or hate at the will of another."

"Forgive me, forgive me! I don't know what I say. I only know I love
you."

Her face softened.

"And you deserve to be loved," she said; "but I--it is so horrible--I
cannot!"

Suddenly Bellairs caught her in his arms.

"You shall," he exclaimed, "you shall. I will make you." But she pushed
him back with a strange strength, and her face hardened till he scarcely
recognised it.

"Don't do that--don't touch me--or you'll make me hate you," she said
vehemently.

Bellairs let her go. At that moment there was a step on the deck.
Clarice appeared. She did not seem to notice that anything was wrong.
She smiled.

"Isn't it sad, Mr Bellairs," she said, "we sail to-morrow. I love Luxor.
I can't bear to leave it."

Bellairs suddenly turned and hurried away. He could no longer trust
himself. There was blood befo